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THE  GRAFTON  HISTORICAL  SERIES 
Edited  by  HENRY  R.  STILES,  A.M.,  M.D 


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IN  OLDE  NEW  YORK 


SKETCHES  OF  OLD  TIMES  AND  PLACES  IN 
BOTH  THE  STATE  AND  THE  CITY 


BY 

CHARLES  BURR  TODD 

Author   of   "In   Olde   Connecticut,"    "In   Olde   Massachusetts," 

"The  Story  of  the  City  of  New  York,"  "The 

True  Aaron  Burr,"  etc. 


THE    GRAFTON   PRESS 

PUBLISHERS  NEW    TOBK 


^t1 


Copyright,  1907 
By  the  GRAFTON  PRESS 


I ***  • 


FOREWORD 

THIS  book  is  dedicated  to  the  citizens  of  New 
York  who  love  her  history  and  traditions. 
Many  of  its  stories  were  written  twenty  years  ago 
and  are  repeated  now  with  very  little  change  simply 
because  they  described  types  and  conditions  (espe- 
cially in  the  great  city)  that  no  longer  exist.  The 
generation  that  read  them  in  1885  in  the  Evening  Post 
or  LippincoU's  Magazine  will  re-peruse  them  as  one 
reads  the  faces  of  old  friends  long  forgotten.  To 
the  generation  which  has  come  on  the  stage  since 
they  were  written  they  will  have  the  novelty  and  in- 
terest of  original  tales.  My  publishers  and  some  of 
my  critics  have  suggested  that  I  adapt  them  to 
changed  conditions.     I  let  them  stand  as  written. 

C.  B.  T. 
October,  1907. 


225748 


CONTENTS 

page 

I 

The  Old  City  Dock 

1 

II 

The   French   Admiral   Pierre   de 

Landais       .         .         .         .         . 

17 

III 

Two    Marble    Cemeteries     . 

28 

IV 

Some  Old  Time  Figures 

36 

V 

New  York  City  in  1827 

45 

VI 

Some  Old  Booksellers    . 

54 

VII 

A  New  York  Curiosity  Shop 

72 

VIII 

The  Old  Jumel  Mansion 

77 

IX 

Two  American  Shrines  . 

86 

X 

The  Story  of  the  Palatines 

91 

XI 

A  Decayed  Stronghold 

118 

XII 

The  Oriskany  Monument 

123 

Xlll 

Johnson  Hall 

129 

XIV 

Thomas  Paine's  Last  Home 

140 

XV 

The  American  Barbison 

.     149 

XVI 

Easthampton  Churchyard 

.     167 

XVII 

The  Wreck  of  the  John  Miltoi 

J     177 

XV  111 

King  Pharaoh's  Widow 

.     184 

XIX 

An  Island  Manor 

.     190 

XX 

The  Whalemen  of  Sag  Harbor 

.     197 

XXT 

Tales  of  Southampton 

.     206 

viii  Contents 

PAGE 

XXII    The  Shinnecocks  .         .         .216 

XXIII    Port  Jefferson  and  the  Whaleboat 

Privateersmen    ....     225 

XXIV    Harvard's  First  Graduate    .         .     232 

XXV    Fire  Island 236 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

The  Clipper  Ship  Dreadnought Frontispiece 

FACma  PAGB 

The  Old  City  Dock 4 

St.  Patrick's  Cemetery 18 

The  New  York  Marble  Cemetery .  30 

The  New  York  City  Marble  Cemetery S4 

Broadway  from  City  Hall  Park 52 

The  Jumel  Mansion  in  1854 78 

The  Richmond  Hill  Mansion 80 

Ruins  of  Fort  Ticonderoga 118 

The  Oriskany  Monument 124 

The  Johnson  House 130 

The  Thomas  Paine  Memorial 142 

Main  Street,  Easthampton 150 

The  Gardiner  Mansion,  Gardiner's  Island 190 

The  Surf  Hotel,  Fire  Island 236 


IN  OLDE  NEW  YORK 


IN  OLDE   NEW  YORK 
CHAPTER  I 

THE   OLD   CITY   DOCK* 

\  N  old  time  friend  of  mine,  a  gentleman  of  leisure, 
■^^'  whenever  an  attack  of  ennui  threatens,  flees 
to  the  city  docks,  where  he  finds  in  their  bustle  and 
infinite  variety  an  unfailing  specific.  He  stops  to 
inspect  whole  fleets  of  canal  boats  snugly  housed 
during  winter  from  the  terrors  of  the  "raging  canawj," 
is  thrilled  at  sight  of  an  ocean  steamer  just  in  from 
a  perilous  voyage,  storm-battered,  with  torn  sails,  and 
decks  and  rigging  sheathed  with  ice.  The  great  rail- 
way docks  hold  him  a  long  time.  On  the  Southern 
steamship  wharves  he  draws  odorous  breaths  of  resin 
and  tar,  trails  his  cane  through  little  puddles  of  molasses, 
and  gets  his  hair  full  of  cotton  lint,  whereat  the  steve- 
dores grin.  The  dock  where  the  trim  little  fruit 
schooners  from  the  West  Indies  unload  is  a  favorite 
haunt  and  so  are  the  piers  along  South  Street,  below 
Roosevelt,  where  the  few  battered  veterans  of  the  Cali- 
fornia and  Canton  trade  still  discharge  their  cargoes. 
When  his  circuit  is  completed  he  has  studied  every 
» Written  in  1883. 


•  r  t     ^« 


2' '**'"'    ''     In  Oide  New  York 

nationality,  learned  the  cut  of  every  civilized  jib, 
heard  the  music  of  every  tongue,  and  inspected  the 
products  of  the  known  earth. 

The  region  between  the  present  Coenties  Slip  and 
Whitehall  Street  my  friend  finds  most  prolific  of  fan- 
cies. It  is  the  site  of  the  old  city  dock,  the  first  built 
on  Manhattan.  This  dock  was  the  comer-stone  of 
the  commerce  of  our  metropolis,  the  progenitor  of  our 
thirty  miles  or  more  of  wharves.  That  famous  mo- 
nopoly, the  West  India  Company,  built  it,  and  its 
quaint,  round-bottomed,  high-pooped  Dutch  ships  were 
the  first  vessels  here.  They  gathered  the  grain,  pelts, 
lumber,  potash,  and  medicinal  herbs  that  then  formed 
New  Netherland's  exports,  or  landed  the  hardware, 
groceries,  household  goods,  brick,  "cow  calves"  and 
"ewe  milk  sheep,"  and  other  peculiar  Dutch  imports. 
As  late  as  1702  this  dock  formed  almost  the  sole  wharf- 
age of  the  city,  and  seventy-four  vessels,  pinks,  galleys, 
snows,  a  few  brigs  and  ships,  were  moored  to  it  during 
the  year,  two  thirds  of  them  from  the  West  Indies  and 
Southern  provinces.  The  town  then  contained  5250 
inhabitants,  living  in  750  dwellings,  so  that  the  wharf 
was  ample  for  its  needs.  As  much  of  the  interest  and 
romance  of  the  old  dock  gathers  about  this  period 
from  1690  to  1700,  I  may  indicate  its  primitiveness 
by  the  fact  that  the  city  streets  were  first  lighted  in 
1697,  by  hanging  a  lantern  on  a  pole  before  every 
seventh  house  "in  the  dark  time  of  the  moon,"  and 


The  Old  City  Dock  S 

that  the  city  police  force  consisted  of  four  honest 
citizens  whose  office  was  to  walk  the  streets  at  night 
sounding  a  bell  and  proclaiming  the  hour  and  state  of 
the  weather. 

Along  the  rude  dock  at  that  time  we  should  have 
seen,  here  a  galley  from  Fayal,  there  a  "  pink"  from 
Barbadoes,  in  its  neighbor  a  "snow"  from  Boston  or 
the  Virginias,  with  possibly  a  full-rigged  bark  or  ship 
from  London  unloading  cargo,  for  England  was  as 
determined  then  as  later  that  her  American  colonies 
should  receive  their  European  products  through  her 
own  bottoms  and  warehouses.  It  is  Kkely,  too,  that 
a  trim,  buoyant  vessel,  painted  black,  with  long  taper- 
ing masts  and  spars,  would  be  lying  at  the  wharf  — 
a  slave  trader  lately  in  from  the  coast  of  Guinea,  and 
about  to  sail  for  a  new  cargo.  As  soon  as  the  stout 
burghers  of  Manhattan  acquired  a  little  wealth  in 
stock  and  lands  they  felt  the  need  of  servants,  and 
despatched  ships  to  the  coast  of  Africa  after  them. 
Strange  adventures  and  many  dangers  attended  these 
early  traders;  if  they  escaped  the  pirates  which  then 
swarmed  in  all  frequented  seas,  they  ran  into  some  little 
port  along  the  Angola  coast,  bargained  with  the  petty 
king  of  the  place  for  a  contingent,  and  so  creeping 
along  the  shore  made  up  their  cargo  from  a  score  of 
villages,  provided,  however,  that  some  piratical  craft 
did  not  follow  them  into  harbor  and  capture  craft, 
cargo  and  all.     For  these  were  the  days  of  such  free- 


4  In  Olde  New  York 

booting  in  the  colonies  as  seems  incredible  to  modem 
ears. 

In  our  character  of  dreamer  we  shall  see  a  dim, 
shadowy  vessel  far  out  in  the  offing  that  does  not  come 
boldly  up  to  the  wharf  Kke  an  honest  craft,  but  tacks 
and  fills  as  if  waiting  an  assurance  that  the  coast  is 
clear  before  venturing  in.  While  we  are  speculating 
about  her  a  long  boat  appears  coming  from  her  direc- 
tion, in  whose  bow  stands  a  stout,  swarthy,  bearded 
man,  his  sinister  face  tanned  by  Indian  suns,  a  fine, 
beautifully  wrought  gold  chain  from  Arabian  work- 
shops about  his  neck,  rings  set  with  gems  on  his  fingers, 
and  under  his  coat  a  netted  belt  through  whose  meshes 
we  catch  the  gleam  of  gold.  Once  ashore  he  makes 
his  way  to  the  Governor's  mansion,  whence  he  presently 
returns  smiUng  and  rubbing  his  hands  gleefully,  and 
then  hurries  away  to  the  ship.  Next  morning  we 
gather  with  the  crowd  to  see  the  latter  berthed,  and 
when  this  is  done  and  the  hatches  removed,  bale  after 
bale  of  costly  merchandise  is  hauled  up  and  carried 
away.  One  might  fancy  himself  for  the  nonce  trans- 
ported to  the  Orient.  Tea  and  cassia,  rich  silks  of 
China,  woven  fabrics  of  Cashmere,  Indian  sandal 
wood,  perfumes,  and  gems,  spices  and  gums  of  Ceylon. 
African  gold  and  ivory,  with  half  the  products  of 
European  workshops,  the  vessel  pours  out,  until  half- 
a-million  dollars  in  value  has  passed  from  her  hold. 
There  is  no  doubt  as  to  the  character  of  the  craft;  she 


if     ' 

H 

1 

^-^».^  ^ 

^  e 

o    o 
o  ^ 

Q :: 
-I 

1-3    05 

o 


1 

I 


The  Old  City  Dock  5 

belonged  to  that  powerful  guild  of  pirates  which  at 
this  period,  under  the  corrupt  Governor  Fletcher,  had 
become  one  of  the  wealthiest  interests  of  the  city. 

These  colonial  pirates  at  this  distance  of  time  seem 
the  ideal  freebooters.  As  a  rule  they  were  the  most 
enterprising  shipmasters  of  their  day,  who  were  drawn 
from  the  merchant  service  into  privateering  during 
the  French  and  Spanish  wars,  and  on  the  return  of 
peace,  impatient  of  restraint,  became  privateers  on 
general  principles  and  turned  their  guns  on  vessels 
of  every  flag.  The  whole  waste  of  waters  was  their 
cruising  ground,  but  their  special  field  was  the  Indian 
Ocean.  With  characteristic  ingenuity  they  reduced 
the  business  to  a  system.  The  home  merchants,  who 
in  many  cases  had  fitted  them  out  and  had  a  share  in 
the  profits,  established  lines  of  swift  vessels  to  Mada- 
gascar, the  rendezvous  of  the  pirates,  which  carried 
out  such  supplies  as  they  might  need  and  brought 
back  the  booty  to  be  disposed  of  as  lawful  merchandise, 
the  pirates  themselves  returning  home  only  at  intervals. 
What  seductive  pictures  must  have  been  painted  for 
the  adventurous  youth  of  Gotham  in  1690-6  when 
the  pirate  captains  were  beating  up  the  town  for  re- 
cruits! Fighting  and  bloodshed  were  not  mentioned; 
the  prizes^  were  unarmed  and  would  yield  to  a  show 
of  strength.  And  in  sober  truth  these  calculations 
were  correct.  East  India  piracy  was  not  a  bloody  trade; 
captured  crews  and  passengers  were  in  most  cases  well 


6  In  Olde  New  York 

treated  and  put  ashore  at  the  nearest  point.  At  the 
trial  of  Captain  Kidd  his  prosecutors  could  not  fix  a 
single  murder  upon  him,  except  that  of  a  mutinous 
member  of  his  crew.  With  such  inducements  scores 
of  vessels  fitted  out  from  the  colonial  ports,  chiefly 
from  New  York  and  Rhode  Island.  Had  they  been 
content  with  plundering  the  Dutch  and  native  traders, 
they  might  have  continued  to  flourish  for  years;  but 
when,  grown  bolder,  they  began  taking  the  rich  bottoms 
of  the  East  India  Company,  that  powerful  corporation 
began  taking  steps  to  suppress  them. 

The  era  of  the  California  and  Canton  clipper  ships 
was  one  of  which  America  may  justly  be  proud,  and, 
singularly  enough,  the  trade  which  they  created  cen- 
tered in  the  neighborhood,  if  not  on  the  site,  of  the  old 
city  dock. 

They  had  their  origin  in  the  advantages  which  our 
shrewd  merchants  of  1845  saw  lay  in  quick  passages 
to  the  East,  but  they  were  brought  to  perfection  by 
the  California  gold  mining  excitement  of  '49  and  suc- 
ceeding years.  During  their  existence,  they  gave  us 
the  supremacy  of  the  seas,  excited  the  keenest  rivalry 
between  American  and  Enghsh  ship-builders,  and  be- 
came the  theme  of  international  comment.  Yet  one 
looks  in  vain  for  any  account  of  them  in  the  published 
histories  of  the  city,  while  the  opening  of  the  Pacific 
Railway  and  the  development  of  steam  navigation 
so   revolutionized   the   machinery  of   commerce    that 


The  Old  City  Dock  7 

merchants  of  to-day  have  almost  forgotten  their  ex- 
istence. The  two  lines  of  clippers  were  of  nearly 
simultaneous  origin,  the  one  in  part  the  complement 
of  the  other. 

In  the  winter  of  1848-9  New  York  wore  an  air  of 
suppressed  excitement:  in  counting-room  and  office, 
tavern  and  exchange,  there  was  one  common  topic  of 
conversation  —  gold ;  until,  at  length,  the  spell  of  it 
fell  on  half  the  energetic  men  of  the  city.  The  spring 
before,  a  workman  clearing  out  a  mill-race  on  a  branch 
of  the  Sacramento  had  found  particles  of  gold.  The 
discovery  leaked  out  despite  the  efforts  made  to  keep 
it  secret;  it  floated  over  the  mountains,  came  around 
the  Horn,  and  brought  unrest  and  disquiet  not  only 
to  the  Atlantic  seaboard  cities,  but  to  the  old  world 
centers  of  capital  and  population  as  well.  Many  yet 
remember  the  scenes  of  bustle  and  excitement  pro- 
duced by  the  news.  Ordinary  methods  of  money- 
making  seemed  slow  or  superannuated  compared  with 
the  picking  up  of  gold  nuggets  in  the  river  beds.  The 
newspapers  fanned  the  flame  by  publishing  interviews 
with  returned  Californians,  and  every  scrap  of  news 
concerning  the  diggings  that  could  be  gathered.  The 
Herald  published  California  specials,  and  tales  of 
twenty-five  and  twenty-eight  pound  nuggets  picked 
up  by  lucky  miners.  Associations  were  at  once  formed 
for  proceeding  to  the  gold  regions.  Clothing  men 
turned   their   attention   to   providing   mining   outfits; 


8  In  Olde  New  York 

patent  medicine  men  evolved  specifics  against  chills, 
fevers,  rheumatisms,  and  other  diseases  incident  to 
a  new  country;  publishers  advertised  "choice  reading, 
suitable  for  voyagers  to  the  Pacific,"  and  inventors 
placed  in  the  field  a  bewildering  and  ludicrous  array 
of  contrivances  for  camping  and  gold-washing.  Patent 
mess  hampers,  folding  tables,  and  dressing  cases, 
gold  detecting  scales,  portable  India  rubber  beds  that 
could  quickly  be  inflated  for  use,  and  houses  of  the 
same  material  that  could  be  put  up  or  taken  down  in 
a  few  hours,  figure  in  the  advertisements  of  the  day. 
"I  first  heard  the  news,  I  think,  in  February,  1849," 
said  an  old  pioneer,  "  from  the  wife  of  Clerk  Gallagher, 
of  Washington  Market.  She  had  a  babe  barely  a 
month  old,  and  was  in  a  pretty  condition  at  her  hus- 
band's leaving  her  and  going  to  the  mines.  As  we 
were  talking  Gallagher  came  in,  and  I  remarked  that 
I  felt  like  laying  my  stick  across  his  back  for  his  cruelty 
in  leaving  wife  and  baby.  *Ah,'  said  he,  'wait  till  you 
hear  it  all,'  and  he  sat  down  and  told  me  such  tales 
of  the  mines  that  when  he  had  finished  I  was  ready 
to  leave  my  desk  and  family  and  set  out  for  the  diggings. 
There  was  witchcraft  in  it,  you  see." 

The  first  pioneers  went  around  Cape  Horn,  usually 
chartering  their  vessel  and  furnishing  their  own  out- 
fits. The  later  and  more  favorite  route  was  across 
Mexico,  and  later  still  over  the  Isthmus.  The  first  to 
lead  a  party  over  the  Mexican  route  was  Col.  J.  C. 


The  Old  City  Dock  9 

Battersby,  of  New  York  City,  favorably  known  during 
the  war  as  commander  of  the  First  New  York  Lincoln 
Cavalry,  and  for  his  war  sketches  in  Harper's  Weekly. 
The  Colonel's  reminiscences  of  the  event  are  enter- 
taining. "It  was  in  March,  1849,"  he  says,  "that  I 
hired  a  room  at  No.  2  Dey  Street  and  advertised  to 
lead  a  company  of  men  across  Mexico  to  California 
in  sixty  days  at  $250  each.  It  was  the  first  time,  to 
my  knowledge,  that  the  idea  had  been  broached. 
The  usual  method  for  gold-diggers  then  was  to  form 
an  association  of  perhaps  fifty  or  a  hundred  members, 
charter  a  vessel,  procure  outfits,  and  sail  around  the 
Cape,  a  voyage  of  five  or  six  months.  As  showing 
that  there  were  those  incredulous  as  to  the  richness 
of  the  new  Eldorado,  I  may  mention  that  soon  after 
my  advertisement  appeared,  the  owner  of  the  building 
came  to  me  and  said  he  would  have  no  more  men  roped 
in  there  and  their  money  taken  away.  *You  tell 
them,'  said  he,  *  there's  gold  in  California,  and  I  don't 
believe  there's  that  gold  in  California,'  indicating  a 
section  of  his  thumb  nail  as  large  as  a  pea.  *Very 
well,'  said  I,  and  secured  rooms  of  Richard  French, 
on  or  near  the  spot  where  the  Belmont  Hotel  now 
stands. 

*'  The  plan  was  so  novel,  however,  and  untried, 
that  few  presented  themselves.  I  secured  but  one. 
Dr.  N.  S.  Murphy,  an  Irish  physician  of  character 
and  attainments.     I  had  chartered  the  bark  Eugenia, 


10  In  Olde  New  York 

owned  by  Peter  Argus  &  Co.,  and,  after  holding  her 
three  weeks  for  the  desired  number,  put  my  horse,  my 
Newfoundland  dog,  Rubens,  and  my  outfit  on  board, 
and  embarked  with  the  doctor  for  Vera  Cruz  where 
we  arrived  in  thirty-one  days.  From  that  port  we  took 
the  National  Road  to  the  City  of  Mexico  twelve  days, 
thence  by  easy  stages  through  the  valley  of  Guarmica, 
later  Maximilian's  summer  retreat,  to  Acapulco. 
Here  the  doctor  was  taken  ill  with  burning  fever  and 
lay  forty  days  in  the  Governor's  palace,  where  we  were 
hospitably  entertained.  Just  as  he  was  well  enough 
to  travel,  the  British  steamer  Unicorn  came  into  port 
eight  months  from  New  York  with  600  passengers  on 
board  bound  for  San  Francisco.  Cabins,  decks,  fore- 
castle, everything  was  full,  except  the  upper  compart- 
ment of  a  large  coop  on  the  main  deck  which  had  been 
used  for  the  storage  of  fowls:  this  we  secured  for  $100 
each,  and  in  this  queer  cabin  made  the  voyage  to  San 
Francisco." 

The  vast  influx  of  gold-seekers  into  CaHfomia 
naturally  induced  a  demand  for  all  sorts  of  goods,  and 
to  supply  these  and  at  the  same  time  furnish  quick 
passenger  service,  the  merchants  of  New  York  and 
Boston  provided  the  clipper  lines.  J.  &;  N.  Briggs, 
40  South  Street;  E.  B.  Sutton,  119  Wall;  James  Smith, 
116  Wall;  E.  Richards  &  Co.,  52  South;  Thomas 
Wardle,  88  South;  E.  W.  Kimball  &  Co.,  84  Wall; 
C.  H.   &  W.  Pierson,  61  South;  and  N.  L.  McCready 


The  Old  City  Dock  11 

&  Co.,  36  South,  figure  in  the  advertisements  of  the 
day  as  the  principal  shi^  owners  in  the  California 
trade,  all  of  them,  it  will  be  noticed,  in  the  vicinity  of 
the  old  city  dock.  This  section  of  the  water  front 
never  had  seen,  and  never  will  see  again,  such  scenes 
of  bustle  and  animation  as  then  enhvened  it.  Truck 
after  truck  loaded  with  lumber,  groceries,  provisions, 
clothing,  mining  implements,  and  miners'  outfits 
crowded  it  from  morning  till  night.  Groups  of  pioneers 
roughly  clad  in  suits  of  tough,  ill-smelling,  English 
cloth,  with  pockets  covering  all  available  space,  wives 
and  children  bidding  them  tearful  farewells,  the  de- 
parture of  half-a-dozen  vessels  a  day,  were  the  scenes 
there  presented. 

The  trade  with  California  was  a  very  unsatisfactory 
one  for  the  merchants  engaged,  owing  to  the  fluctuating 
character  of  the  market.  Many  fortunes  were  lost 
as  well  as  made  in  the  business,  and  many  cargoes 
shipped  that  did  not  pay  the  charges,  the  ship  owners 
being  often  obliged  to  sue  for  their  freight  money. 
An  instance  of  this  uncertainty  was  narrated  by  Colonel 
Battersby.  On  arriving  at  San  Francisco  he  had 
written  a  letter  to  a  friend  in  New  York,  cashier  of 
the  Chemical  Bank,  in  which  he  mentioned  casually 
the  abundance  and  cheapness  of  provisions  in  the  city. 
As  the  cashier  was  reading  it  a  gentleman  came  in  to 
draw  out  $50,000,  remarking  as  he  did  so  that  he  was 
about  sending  a  cargo  of  provisions  to  California,  as 


12  In  Olde  New  York 

they  were  all  starving  out  there.  On  hearing  the 
Colonel's  letter,  however,  he  decided  to  reHnquish  the 
venture.  Perhaps  it  was  this  uncertainty  of  a  market, 
perhaps  the  competition  of  the  steamers,  that  led  the 
more  enterprising  merchants  to  make  San  Francisco 
only  a  port  of  call,  and  to  send  their  clipper  ships  over 
the  Pacific  to  the  rich  ports  of  China  and  India;  at 
least  about  this  time  originated  the  Canton  tea  trade 
as  a  distinctive  business  of  the  port. 

Of  course,  there  had  been  trade  with  China  before, 
but  the  California  clippers  were  not  in  it.  Salem, 
fifty  years  earKer,  had  boldly  announced  herself  a 
competitor  with  Europe  for  the  trade  of  the  Orient, 
and  had  demonstrated  the  superiority  of  small,  swift 
vessels  in  the  transportation  of  teas  and  rich  cargoes. 
Boston  and  New  York  now  began  to  put  in  commission 
those  magnificent  clippers  that  for  speed  and  seafaring 
quahties  have  never  been  equaled,  and  which,  but 
for  the  development  of  the  steam  marine,  would  cer- 
tainly have  wrested  from  England  her  boasted  suprem- 
acy of  the  seas.  Most  of  the  shrewd,  far-seeing 
merchants  and  skilled  sea  captains  who  carried  on  this 
enterprise  have  done  with  ledger  and  log-book,  and 
sleep  in  Greenwood  or  in  the  coral  depths.  A  single 
firm  the  writer  succeeded  in  finding  in  Burling  Slip, 
and  was  kindly  allowed  to  mouse  among  its  scrap- 
books  and  records  at  will. 

The  great  object  aimed  at  in  these  cKppers  was 


The  Old  City  Dock  13 

speed,  and  their  owners  had  the  English  as  well  as  the 
American  market  in  mind  in  their  construction.  If 
the  English  merchant  could  secure  his  cargo  of  tea 
or  silks  from  Canton  in  an  American  bottom  a  month 
earlier  than  in  an  English  one,  they  argued,  interest 
would  prompt  him  to  charter  the  quicker  craft.  It 
was  found,  too,  the  longer  a  cargo  of  tea  was  on  the 
water  the  more  it  deteriorated.  "Speed"  was  there- 
fore the  order  given  the  American  ship-builder.  The 
more  famous  clipper  ship-yards  were  those  of  W.  H., 
Webb  and  Jacob  Westervelt  in  Brooklyn,  Charles 
Mallory  and  Greenwood  &  Sons,  Mystic,  Ct.,  and 
Donald  McKay,  East  Boston.  The  clippers  were 
sharp,  comparatively  narrow  for  their  length,  and 
models  of  trimness  and  grace.  Some  were  of  large 
tonnage,  the  Eternal  for  instance  registered  1800  tons, 
the  Staghound  1534,  the  Sovereign  of  the  Seas,  built 
by  Donald  McKay,  2421.  Later  the  Young  America, 
of  New  York,  was  turned  out,  registering  eighty  tons 
more,  whereupon  Mr.  McKay  expressed  his  deter- 
mination to  build  a  ship  of  3500  tons  to  carry  4000 
tons  of  merchandise  to  California.  As  a  rule,  how- 
ever, the  true  Canton  clippers  were  vessels  of  from 
500  to  1000  tons  burden.  Some  of  the  quick  passages 
they  made  approached  the  incredible,  and  exceeded 
the  quickest  steamer  time  of  the  day.  In  1852  there 
were  in  commission  the  clipper  ships  Surprise,  Celestial, 
Sea    Witch,    Samuel   Russell,    Staghound,    George   E, 


14  In  Olde  New  York 

Webster,  and  barks  Race  Horse  and  Memnon,  all  of 
which  had  made  the  passage  from  New  York  to  San 
Francisco  in  from  ninety  to  one  hundred  and  twenty 
days,  the  average  steamer  time  being  one  hundred 
and  fifty.  The  clipper  ship  Northern  Light  once  sailed 
from  San  Francisco  to  Boston  in  seventy-six  days, 
five  hours;  and  in  a  trial  of  speed  with  the  Contest 
in  1853  made  the  passage  to  New  York  in  seventy- 
three  days.  The  log-book  of  the  ship  Samuel  Russell, 
one  of  New  York's  finest  vessels,  in  a  voyage  from 
China  home,  showed  a  total  of  6722  miles  run  in  thirty 
days,  the  greatest  distance  in  one  day  being  318,  or 
13J  miles  per  hour.  The  same  ship  sailed  from 
Whampoa,  China,  February  5,  1848,  passed  Angiers 
on  the  15th,  Cape  of  Good  Hope  March  18,  the  equator 
April  6,  and  took  the  New  York  pilot  April  27. 

One  gets  no  idea  of  the  esprit  and  dash  of  the  clippers, 
however,  unless  he  stumbles  on  some  idle  tar  of  the 
many  on  South  Street,  who  formerly  served  in  the 
fleet.  Mention  a  Canton  clipper  to  such  a  one,  and 
his  eyes  glisten,  and  his  tongue  wags  fast.  "There 
was  nothin'  like  'em  for  prettiness,"  he  observes,  "and 
the  way  they  jist  did  flog  all  other  craft  out  of  the 
water.  I  remember  once  we  was  at  Hong  Kong  in 
the  Sam*l  Russell,  and  as  there  was  a  Britisher  leaving 
for  New  York,  we  sent  home  letters  by  him.  'Bout 
a  month  later  the  Russell  cleared  on  the  same  tack, 
an'  she  did  drive  on  that  voyage  like  a  race  horse. 


The  Old  City  Dock  15 

Sail  after  sail  she  overhauled  and  left  behind :  roundin 
the  Cape,  I  remember,  the  Jack  Tars  started  the 
sayin'  that  *the  old  man  couldn't  hold  his  horses  in.' 
But  flyin'  up  the  coast  of  Brazil  what  did  we  do  but 
skip  by  that  Britisher  that  had  our  letters  on  board 
and  make  port  a  week  ahead  of  him,  delivering  'em 
by  word  of  mouth.  Another  voyage  I  was  on  that 
racer,  the  Flyin*  Cloud,  comin'  home  from  Hong 
Kong.  I  tell  you  'twas  as  bracin'  as  a  glass  of  grog 
to  stand  on  her  top  hamper  and  feel  her  pull,  comin' 
down  the  trades.  Once  in  a  while  a  brother  Yankee 
would  give  us  a  tug  before  we  could  shake  him  off, 
but  as  for  anythin'  foreign,  English,  Dutch,  or  French, 
we  handled  'em  as  though  they  was  babies.  There 
was  one  thing  the  ship  did  on  that  v'yage  that  I've  alius 
blamed  her  owners  or  nearest  relations  fer  not  spin 'in' 
a  yarn  on.  One  day  we  took  a  pretty  smart  breeze 
on  the  starboard  quarter,  and  held  it  tolerably  steady 
for  the  space  of  ten  days,  in  which  time,  sir,  we  made 
upwards  of  forty-five  degrees,  hard  on  to  3200  miles, 
328  miles  one  day,  as  the  log  will  show.  Ther's 
another  thing;  bein'  so  long  and  narrer,  you'd  expect 
the  clippers  would  ship  some  water,  but  all  that  v'yage, 
I  didn't  see  a  gallon  o'  water  on  the  ship's  deck,  not 
enough  to  wash  her  down  with." 

American  ships  continued  to  rule  the  wave,  until 
superseded  by  the  more  reliable  steamers.  But  what 
a  turn  in  fortune's  wheel!    In  1853  American  ships 


16  In  Olde  New  York 

securing  cargoes  in  English  home  ports  amid  the 
fiercest  competition;  in  1883  almost  every  pound  of 
America's  exports  afloat  in  British  bottoms,  and 
scarcely  an  American  vessel  in  commission  in  the  foreign 
trade! 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  FRENCH  ADMIRAL   PIERRE   DE  LANDAIS 

TN  1880,  St.  Patrick's  churchyard  was  one  of  the 
■■■  few  in  the  densely  populated  portion  of  the  city 
remaining  intact,  and  had  long  been  closed  to  in- 
terments except  by  special  permit  of  the  Board  of 
Health. 

A  blank  brick  wall  hid  it  from  the  three  streets 
Mulberry,  Mott,  and  Prince  that  bounded  it:  the  old 
Cathedral  of  St.  Patrick  overshadowed  it,  while  the 
office  of  the  Calvary  Cemetery  Association  formed 
part  of  the  northern  boundary. 

If  one  hunted  up  the  old  sexton  and  was  admitted 
he  found  little  turf  within,  little  shade,  a  litter  of 
twigs  and  leaves  on  the  ground,  some  of  the  tomb- 
stones shattered,  and  others  overthrown  or  leaning  far 
out  of  the  perpendicular;  while  the  voices  of  the  few 
birds  that  harbored  there  were  drowned  by  the  dis- 
cordant noises  of  a  squalid  neighborhood. 

In  this  ground  a  tombstone  was  long  ago  erected 
with  this  inscription: 


18  In  Olde  New  York 

A  La  Memoire 

de 

Pierre  de  Landais, 

Ancien  Contre  Admiral 

au  service 

Des  Etats  Unis. 

Qui  disparut 

June,  1818, 

ae  87  ans. 

For  forty  years  prior  to  the  above  date  Pierre  Lan- 
dais had  been  one  of  the  noted  characters  of  the  city. 
He  claimed  the  rank  of  "Admiral,*'  and  those  who 
would  retain  his  favor  were  obliged  to  observe  a  punc- 
tihous  regard  for  the  title.  His  short,  stout  figure  clad 
in  a  faded  Continental  uniform  —  cocked  hat,  small 
sword,  knee  breeches,  and  all  —  seated  in  the  shade 
of  Printing-House  Square  or  pacing  slowly  down 
Broadway  to  the  Bowling  Green  —  his  favorite  prome- 
nade —  was  a  familiar  object  to  the  New  Yorkers  of 
one  hundred  years  ago.  In  the  coffee-houses  and 
inns,  equal  sharers  of  his  attentions,  he  never  failed 
of  a  circle  of  admirers  to  whom  he  recounted  stirring 
tales  of  sea  fights  in  which  he  had  been  an  actor,  and 
generally  concluded  with  an  account  of  his  capture  of 
the  Serapis  and  Countess  of  Scarboroughy  and  a  hearty 
denunciation  of  the  man  who  had  stolen  the  laurels  of 
that  conflict  from  him.     His  persistency  as  a  claimant 


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The  French  Admiral  Pierre  de  Landais         19 

before  Congress  alone  made  him  noteworthy.  He 
had  claims  for  arrears  of  pay  and  for  prize  money, 
and  urged  them  for  forty  years  until  he  became  the 
Nestor  of  American  claimants.  Every  year,  at  the 
sitting  of  Congress,  he  hurried  to  Wasliington  in  the 
lumbering  old  coaches  that  then  connected  the  cities, 
and  haunted  the  lobbies  and  galleries  of  the  Capitol 
like  an  unquiet  spirit,  deluging  Congress  with  petitions 
and  memorials,  watching  its  proceedings  with  feverish 
interest,  and  button-holing  members  at  every  oppor- 
tunity in  the  interest  of  his  claims.  In  the  journals 
of  Congress  no  name  appears  more  frequently  among 
the  petitioners  and  memorialists  than  his;  but  although 
his  petitions  were  personally  urged,  and  often  accom- 
panied by  letters  offering  cogent  reasons  why  his  claims 
should  be  allowed,  they  were  never  granted,  and  the 
old  man,  year  by  year,  returned  to  his  lodgings  at 
the  close  of  the  session  as  empty  as  he  went,  to  renew 
the  conflict  with  poverty,  and  live  in  the  hope  of 
better  fortune  another  year. 

His  history  has  the  elements  of  a  romance.  One 
cannot  but  feel,  too,  on  reviewing  his  career,  that  there 
may  have  been  a  grain  of  injustice  in  the  treatment  he 
received  from  his  adopted  country.  He  was  born  a 
Count  of  France,  and  early  rose  to  the  command  of  a 
French  line-of-battle  ship,  but  rehnquished  all  in 
1777  to  join  his  fortunes  with  those  of  the  young  re- 
public across  the  sea,  then  engaged  in  her  gallant 


20  In  Olde  New  York 

stand  for  liberty.  Baron  Steuben  recommended  him, 
and  Silas  Deane,  then  American  Commissioner  to 
France,  gave  him  the  command  of  the  ship  Heureux, 
rechristened  the  Flammand,  recently  purchased  to 
convey  military  stores  to  America.  His  commission, 
dated  March  1,  1777,  was  accompanied  by  this  interest- 
ing letter  from  the  worthy  Commissioner:  "I  give  you 
a  commission  to  use  in  case  of  necessity  or  advantage 
in  making  a  prize,  but  you  are  not  to  go  out  of  your 
course  for  that  purpose.  You  will  keep  an  account 
of  your  expenses,  which  will  be  paid  you  on  your 
arrival  in  America.  I  shall  write  to  the  Congress  by 
other  conveyances,  and  assure  them  that  you  have 
received  nothing  but  your  expenses,  and  your  generous 
confidence  in  them  will  not  pass  unnoticed."  So  good 
an  authority  as  the  Marine  Committee  of  Congress 
testified  to  the  skill  and  address  with  which  Landais 
executed  this  commission,  in  eluding  the  British 
cruisers  sent  to  intercept  him,  and  bringing  the  Flam- 
mand  safely  into  port.  Congress  also  showed  its 
appreciation  of  him  by  commissioning  him  a  captain 
in  the  navy,  and  ordered  12,000  Uvres  to  be  paid  him 
"as  a  pecuniary  consideration  equal  to  his  services." 
The  Marine  Committee  also  gave  him  the  oversight 
of  the  ships-of-war  then  building  at  Portsmouth  and 
Sahsbury  for  the  newly-created  navy,  in  their  report 
to  Congress  styling  him  "an  excellent  sea  officer,  and 
skilled  in  the  construction  of  ships-of-war."    The  next 


The  French  Admiral  Pierre  de  Landais        21 

summer  he  enjoyed  a  still  more  signal  mark  of  its 
favor.  On  the  29th  of  May,  1778,  the  Alliancey  a  fine 
and  uncommonly  fast  frigate  of  thirty-six  guns,  was 
launched  at  Salisbury,  Mass.,  where  she  had  been  long 
building.  She  went  into  commission  June  19,  and  for 
her  maiden  voyage  was  ordered  to  transport  the  Mar- 
quis de  Lafayette  and  suite  to  France.  Her  com- 
mander, duly  commissioned  by  Congress,  was  the 
Admiral  Pierre  Landais.  The  memorable  voyage  of 
the  Alliancey  the  motley  character  of  her  crew  —  a 
part  of  whom  were  English  seamen  from  a  vessel 
wrecked  on  the  Massachusetts  coast  —  how  these 
mutinied  as  the  vessel  neared  the  British  coast,  and 
how  the  mutiny  was  promptly  quelled  by  Landais, 
and  the  vessel  safely  brought  into  Brest,  is  told  in 
history. 

In  France  Landais  met  his  evil  genius  in  the  person 
of  the  famous  Admiral  John  Paul  Jones.  Landais 
had  his  faults,  being  haughty,  imperious,  punctilious, 
quarrelsome,  and  a  martinet.  Jones  was  all  this  and 
more,  and  the  two  were  at  enmity  from  the  moment 
of  meeting.  They  met  first  in  August,  1779,  at  Brest, 
where  a  Kttle  squadron  composed  of  four  French 
vessels  and  the  Alliance  had  rendezvoused  in  order  to 
make  a  swoop  on  the  Baltic  fleet  then  about  due  in 
England.  Jones,  in  command  of  the  Bon  Homme 
Richard,  was  the  senior  officer,  and  there  was  trouble 
before  the  fleet  sailed  as  to  who  should  command  it. 


22  In  Olde  New  York 

but  the  matter  was  amicably  settled  at  last  by  each 
of  the  five  commanders  signing  an  agreement  to  act 
in  concert  under  the  commissions  received  from  Con- 
gress. The  squadron  got  under  way  August  14,  and 
on  the  23d  of  September  met  the  Baltic  fleet,  con- 
voyed by  the  Serapis  and  Countess  of  Scarborough. 
The  details  of  the  engagement  that  followed  are  so 
famihar  that  I  need  not  repeat  them.  The  charges 
so  frequently  made  against  Captain  Landais  by  Jones 
in  his  report  of  the  affair  to  Frankhn,  and  corroborated 
by  the  statements  of  other  oflScers  of  the  fleet,  merit 
attention.  It  was  charged  that  the  Alliance  held  aloof 
at  the  opening  of  the  engagement,  and  that  when  she 
came  to  the  aid  of  the  Bon  Homme  Richard^  then 
engaged  with  the  Serapis,  she  poured  her  broadsides 
into  the  former,  and  repeated  the  maneuver  again 
and  again,  never  once  striking  the  Serapis  except 
over  or  through  the  decks  of  the  Richard.  The  report 
did  more  than  this  —  it  distinctly  charged  the  com- 
mander of  the  Alliance,  first  with  cowardice  and  then 
with  treachery  —  that  he  designed  to  sink  the  Richard 
in  order  to  win  for  himself  the  glory  of  capturing  the 
Serapis.  These  charges  were  generally  accepted  as 
true  by  the  American  public  of  that  day,  and  have 
passed  into  history  as  truth.  This  paper  makes  no 
attempt  to  disprove  them.  It  is  but  due  to  Captain 
Landais  to  say,  however,  that  he  met  them  with  an 
indignant  denial,  and  that  he  at  once  demanded  a 


The  French  Admiral  Pierre  de  Landais        23 

trial,  where  he  might  be  confronted  with  his  accusers, 
which  demand  was  not  granted. 

He  showed  himself  to  be  no  craven,  however,  by 
calling  out  one  of  his  defamers  —  Captain  Cottineau, 
of  the  Pallas  —  and  running  him  through  with  his 
smallsword.  This  exploit  he  followed  up  by  chal- 
lenging the  commander  of  the  Bon  Homme  Richard. 
No  meeting,  however,  took  place.  Franklin,  obliged 
to  notice  the  charges,  ordered  Landais  to  Paris  to 
answer  them;  but  although  the  latter  promptly  pre- 
sented himself  at  the  capital,  and  used  every  effort  to 
that  effect,  he  failed  to  secure  a  trial. 

Finding  his  efforts  there  fruitless,  Landais,  early  in 
1780,  applied  to  Franklin  for  leave  to  go  to  America 
to  answer  the  charges  preferred  against  him  there. 
Franklin,  no  doubt  glad  to  have  the  affair  off  his  hands, 
consented,  and  ordered  his  expenses  paid.  A  few 
weeks  later,  March  17,  Landais  wrote  again  to  Frank- 
lin asking  to  be  reinstated  in  command  of  the  Alliance, 
which  had  by  this  time  come  into  French  waters  and 
was  lying  at  L'Orient,  and  which,  it  was  rumored, 
was  soon  to  sail  with  stores  for  America.  A  testi- 
monial from  fourteen  officers  of  the  Alliance ^  declar- 
ing Captain  Landais  to  be  a  brave  and  capable  com- 
mander, and  a  letter  from  the  crew,  saying  that  unless 
their  prize-money  was  paid  and  their  former  captain 
restored  to  them  they  would  not  sail  in  the  Alliance, 
accompanied  the  letter.     Franklin  deemed  the  send- 


24  In  Olde  New  York 

ing  of  this  letter  an  act  of  unparalleled  effrontery, 
and  in  his  reply  frankly  told  its  author  so.  At  this 
juncture  Arthur  Lee,  agent  of  the  United  States  at 
Paris,  came  to  the  aid  of  our  hero  with  an  opinion 
that  by  the  terms  of  his  old  commission  from  Congress, 
which  had  never  been  revoked,  he  was  still  lawful 
commander  of  the  Alliance,  and  indeed  responsible 
for  her  until  relieved  by  Congress;  and,  with  this  con- 
venient instrument  in  his  pocket,  Landais  lost  no  time 
in  getting  to  L'Orient  and  regaining  his  old  command. 
Then  the  Alliance  hastily  completed  taking  in  cargo 
and  put  to  sea.  Arrived  in  Boston  her  captain  found 
the  Court  of  Inquiry  he  had  demanded  awaiting  him. 
Its  verdict,  based  solely,  as  its  victim  aflSrmed,  on  the 
testimony  of  his  enemies,  was  guilty  of  the  charges 
preferred  by  Jones,  and  its  sentence  a  summary  dis- 
missal from  the  service.  Degraded  in  rank  and  stained 
in  reputation,  the  Admiral  returned  to  France  and 
took  service  under  the  Republic.  He  was  at  once 
given  command  of  the  seventy-four-gun  frigate  Patriot, 
and  did  efficient  service  in  the  war  which  the  young 
General  Bonaparte  was  then  waging  in  Italy.  In 
1797  he  quitted  the  French  service  and  returned  to 
New  York,  which  continued  to  be  his  residence  until 
his  death  in  1820.  These  years  were  spent  solely 
in  pressing  his  claims  upon  the  attention  of  Con- 
gress. 

These  claims  were  for  arrears  of  pay  while  in  actual 


The  French  Admiral  Pierre  de  Landais        25 

service  in  the  Navy,  and  for  arrears  of  prize  money. 
The  Alliance,  while  under  his  command,  had  taken 
three  prizes,  valued  in  the  aggregate  at  $40,000,  which 
she  sent  into  Bergen,  Norway,  but  which  the  authori- 
ties there,  overawed  by  British  power,  delivered  to 
their  former  owners.  The  commander's  share  of  this 
money  Landais  later  made  the  basis  of  a  heavy  claim 
against  the  Government,  with  what  success  has  been 
stated.  His  pugnaciousness  even  in  old  age  seems 
not  to  have  deserted  him.  On  one  occasion  while  in 
Washington,  it  is  said,  hearing  that  a  Congressman 
had  spoken  slightingly  of  him  in  debate,  he  mounted 
his  smallsword  and  proceeded  to  the  gallery  of  the 
House,  where  he  despatched  a  page  to  the  offending 
member  with  an  invitation  to  meet  him  on  the  field 
of  honor.  Toward  Admiral  John  Paul  Jones,  whom 
he  regarded  as  the  author  of  his  misfortunes,  he  en- 
tertained the  deepest  antipathy.  The  story  goes  — 
set  in  motion  by  himself  —  that  on  one  occasion  he 
met  the  Chevalier  in  Water  Street  and  coolly  spat  in 
his  face  —  a  story  which  was  denied  by  Jones  and  his 
friends  as  often  as  told.  Toward  the  close  of  his 
career  the  Count  became  miserably  poor,  eking  out 
an  existence  by  the  aid  of  an  annuity  purchased  years 
before  by  his  arrears  of  prize  money. 

In  a  memorial  addressed  to  Congress  during  this 
period,  and  later  published  in  a  pamphlet  now  ex- 
tremely rare,  he  thus  refers  to  his  exploits  and  to  the 


m  In  Olde  New  York 

straits  to  which  he  is  reduced.  The  words  are  en- 
tirely typical  of  the  man.     He  says: 

"I  was  bom  and  brought  up  in  affluence;  was 
admitted  into  the  sea-service  of  the  King  of  France 
in  1762,  in  which  service  I  was  wounded  in  the  year 
1763,  in  a  glorious  sea-battle;  circumnavigated  the 
globe  under  command  of  M.  de  Bougainville  in  the 
years  1766-67-68;  had  command  of  a  line-of-battle 
ship  in  1773;  brought  into  Portsmouth,  Hampshire, 
in  1777,  a  ship  loaded  with  brass  guns,  mortars,  etc., 
for  the  United  States.  Being  returned  to  France  in 
1791,  I  had  command  of  the  French  74-gun  ship 
Patriot,  and  had  at  different  times  under  my  orders 
ten  squadrons  or  divisions  of  the  army.  The  Patriot 
was  the  nearest  ship  to  the  batteries  of  the  city  of 
Oneglia  at  the  taking  of  it.  With  seven  ships  of  the 
line  I  took  the  Island  of  Antioch  in  1792,  which  was 
guarded  by  2500  men." 

He  then  goes  on  to  state  that,  promoted  to  the  rank 
of  Rear-Admiral,  he  had  command  of  the  ship 
Ocean,  of  122  guns,  on  board  of  which  his  allowance 
for  table  expenses  alone  was  forty  livres  per  day;  that 
he  had  a  fortune  when  he  came  to  this  country,  all  of 
which  had  been  spent  in  urging  his  claim;  so  that  for 
the  last  seven  years  he  had  been  reduced  to  living  on 
a  dollar  a  week  and  "  when  at  home  to  do  the  meanest 
drudgery  of  my  lodging  in  order  to  keep  my  honor 
and  integrity  unsoiled  and  to  preserve  my  life." 


The  French  Admiral  Pierre  de  Landais        27 

The  last  few  years  of  his  life  were  spent  in  Brooklyn, 
in  a  house  on  Fulton  Street.  He  frequented  his 
accustomed  haunts,  however,  so  long  as  strength  per- 
mitted. His  eccentricities  increased  with  age.  He 
evinced  much  bitterness  against  Congress  and  the 
Government,  and  his  sense  of  honor  became  so  nice 
that  he  would  not  even  allow  a  friend  to  pay  his  fer- 
riage over  the  river.  In  1818  he  ordered  a  tombstone, 
caused  to  be  engraved  upon  it  the  inscription  given  in 
the  beginning  of  this  paper,  and  then  placed  it  at  the 
head  of  his  prospective  grave  in  St.  Patrick's  Church- 
yard. When  attacked  by  his  last  illness  he  was  carried 
at  his  own  request,  to  Bellevue  Hospital,  and  there 
died  September  17,  1820.  After  a  long  search  I  suc- 
ceeded in  finding  the  record  of  his  death  and  burial 
in  the  books  of  the  Cemetery  Association,  as  follows: 

"Admiral  Peter  Landais,  died  in  Bellevue  Hospital, 
Sept.  17,  182D.     Funeral  expenses  $20.62^.     Paid." 


CHAPTER  III 

TWO  MARBLE  CEMETERIES 

npHERE  are  two  interesting  old  cemeteries  in  the 
-■-  neighborhood  of  Second  Avenue  and  Second 
Street,  one  the  New  York  Marble  Cemetery,  on  Second 
Avenue  between  Second  and  Third  streets,  the  other 
the  New  York  City  Marble  Cemetery  on  Second  Street, 
between  Second  and  First  avenues.  Although  their 
names  are  similiar,  they  are  separate  organizations. 
Some  of  their  features  are  peculiar.  They  are,  we 
believe,  the  only  cemeteries  in  the  city  whose  owner- 
ship and  managements  are  entirely  non-sectarian.  They 
are  the  only  ones  where  the  old-fashioned  custom  of 
interring  the  dead  in  underground  vaults  has  always 
been  followed.  They  contain  the  only  receiving  vaults 
in  the  city  limits  open  to  the  general  public,  and  their 
tombs  hold  more  dust  of  "ancient  families"  than  any 
plots  of  equal  proportions  in  the  town. 

When  they  were  laid  out  they  were  in  a  waste  of 
pasture  field;  the  city  had  then  barely  crept  up  to 
Bleecker  Street.  Now  they  are  surrounded  by  piles 
of  brick  and  mortar  so  high  that  the  sun  must  be  well 


Two  Marble  Cemeteries  29 

up  before  its  rays  touch  their  flowers  and  green 
sward. 

The  New  York  Marble  Cemetery  occupies  nearly  all 
the  inside,  or  the  back  yards,  of  the  block  and  is  entered 
from  Second  Avenue  through  a  narrow  passageway. 
From  the  iron  gate  on  the  avenue  one  would  not 
imagine  there  was  a  cemetery  within,  for  there  are  no 
monuments  at  all,  and  not  even  slabs  to  mark  the 
exact  position  of  the  stone-lined  vaults  which  are 
sunken  beneath  the  surface.  Set  into  the  high  wall 
surrounding  the  grounds  are  tablets  bearing  the  names 
of  the  owners  of  the  vaults,  156  in  number.  At  one 
end  is  a  large  index  tablet  with  the  names  in  alpha- 
betical order,  and  among  them  we  read  the  well-known 
New  York  names  of  Kemochan,  Parrish,  John  Hone, 
Scribner,  Stokes,  Riggs,  Harvey,  Van  Zandt,  Griswold 
Lorillard,  Hoyt,  Anthony  Dey,  Haggerty,  and  New- 
comb.  The  grounds  are  laid  out  with  three  broad 
avenues,  perhaps  200  feet  long,  and  with  cross-walks 
about  85  feet  long  at  either  end,  and  in  the  far  comer 
is  the  receiving  vault. 

The  New  York  City  Marble  Cemetery  is  in  plain 
view  of  the  passer-by  going  through  Second  Street. 
Here  the  vaults  are  258  in  number  and  are  marked  by 
stone  slabs  let  into  the  ground,  while  there  are  many 
handsome  monuments  which  have  been  erected  by  the 
vault  owners  in  the  memory  of  their  dead.  Against 
the  rear  wall,  opposite  the  entrance,  is  a  large  receiving 


30  In  Olde  New  York 

vault,  which  in  its  day  has  held  representatives  of  every 
nation  and  clime,  both  the  noble  and  ignoble,  the  great 
and  wise  of  the  city,  as  well  as  the  stranger  who  died 
far  from  home  and  kin,  within  its  walls.  The  principal 
monuments  and  slabs  bear  the  names  of  Gouverneur, 
Fish,  Allen,  Bullus,  Holt,  Gallatin,  Griswold,  Gross, 
De  Klyn,  Quackenbos,  Kevan,  Rowland,  and  Blood- 
good,  Anthony,  Bancker,  Bergh,  Bogardus,  Booraem, 
Hoffman,  Kip,  Kneeland,  Lenox,  Low,  Morton,  Ogden, 
Ockershausen,  Ridabock,  Roosevelt,  Saltus,  Storm, 
Tappin,  Tier,  Tillotson,  Van  Alen,  Van  Antwerp, 
Vantine,  Webb,  Willett,  Winans,  Wynkoop,  and 
others. 

Much  more  of  history  and  romance  lingers  about 
the  old  yard  than  the  careless  passer-by,  or  the  curious 
student  even,  at  first  sight  would  imagine.  In  itself 
it  has  little  claim  to  antiquity,  having  been  laid  out 
barely  seventy-six  years  ago.  In  its  vaults,  however, 
reposes  the  dust  of  the  stout  old  mynheers  and  burgo- 
masters who  first  settled  Manhattan  Island.  This 
apparent  contradiction  is  explained  by  the  fact  that 
it  has  been  made  a  receptacle  for  the  contents  of  church 
vaults  and  family  burial-places  among  the  earliest  on 
the  island.  It  was  first  purchased  in  1831  by  Perkins 
Nichols  and  Ebert  A.  Bancker,  who  designed  it  as  a 
private  cemetery  for  their  own  families,  and  for  a 
limited  number  of  others  who  might  purchase  rights 
of  interment  there.     It  then  formed  a  part  of  the 


o 

4) 

go 


o  ;:^ 


Two  Marble  Cemeteries  31 

Phillip  Minthom  farm,  and  the  region  round  about 
was  covered  with  fanns  and  pastures.  Bleecker 
Street  was  then  on  the  outskirts  of  the  city.  Second 
Street  and  the  adjoining  avenues  had  been  laid  out, 
but  there  were  no  buildings  on  them,  and  a  series  of 
pastures  and  marshes,  tenanted  by  geese  and  cattle, 
swept  to  the  East  River.  The  purchase  comprised 
some  fifteen  city  lots,  and  the  sum  paid  was  $8643. 
The  next  year,  1832,  it  was  regularly  incorporated  as 
the  New  York  City  Marble  Cemetery,  the  title  being 
vested  in  a  board  of  five  trustees.  The  construction 
of  vaults  was  at  once  begun,  and  234  were  completed 
by  1838,  at  which  time  the  cemetery  may  be  said  to 
have  been  finished,  although  twenty-four  vaults  were 
opened  in  1843.  Many  vaults  had  been  purchased 
and  many  interments  made  before  this,  however,  one 
of  the  first  having  been  that  of  the  remains  of  ex- 
President  Monroe.  Soon  after  the  opening  of  the 
ground  several  down-town  churches  and  many  private 
families  purchased  the  vaults  and  removed  the  remains 
of  their  dead  thither.  One  of  the  most  notable  in- 
stances of  this  was  that  of  the  Kip  family,  which  pur- 
chased vault  241  and  removed  thither  generations  of 
their  dead  from  the  old  family  burying-ground  at  Kip's 
Bay.  About  the  same  time  the  old  South  Dutch 
Church,  on  Garden  Street,  purchased  vaults  Nos.  191 
and  192,  and  deposited  the  remains  of  the  dead  in  its 
vaults  which  had  lain  there  so  long  as  to  be  unknown 


32  In  Olde  New  York 

or  unclaimed  by  kindred.     Some  5000  dead,  the  trustees 
estimate,  are  now  enclosed  in  these  vaults. 

Old  residents  of  the  city,  familiar  with  the  cemetery, 
tell  of  many  striking  scenes  and  incidents  in  its  history. 
Imposing  ceremonies  attended  the  interment  here,  on 
the  7th  of  July,  1831,  of  the  remains  of  James  Monroe, 
fifth  President  of  the  United  States.  A  brigade  of 
militia,  under  General  Jacob  Morton,  formed  the  mili- 
tary pageant.  The  chief  men  of  the  nation  joined  the 
procession,  and,  as  the  coJBfin  was  lowered  into  the 
vault,  bells  tolled,  and  the  flags  of  vessels  in  the  harbor 
flew  at  half-mast.  These  august  ceremonies  dedicated 
the  new  cemetery,  so  to  speak,  and  added  much  to  its 
later  repute  among  the  old,  exclusive  families  of  the 
city.  At  first  thought  it  seems  strange  that  Monroe,  a 
native  of  Virginia,  should  have  been  interred  in  this 
little  private  cemetery  on  the  outskirts  of  New  York. 
The  mystery  becomes  clear,  however,  when  it  is  re- 
membered that  his  son-in-law,  Samuel  L.  Gouvemeur, 
at  whose  house  he  died,  owned  a  vault  in  the  cemetery, 
and  that  it  was  natural  for  Mrs.  Gouverneur  to  desire 
her  father  laid  near  her  own  last  resting-place.  After 
reposing  here  for  twenty-seven  years  the  remains  were 
exhumed  and  conveyed  to  Virginia  with  rather  less  of 
ceremony  than  had  attended  their  original  interment. 
A  simple  incident  led  Virginia  to  take  this  action. 
Early  in  1857  a  number  of  gentlemen,  natives  of  that 
State,  but  resident  in  New  York,  conceived  the  plan 


Two  Marble  Cemeteries    .  33 

of  raising  a  monument  to  the  ex-President  over  the 
unrecognized  vault  that  held  his  dust.  The  project 
was  hinted  abroad,  and  in  course  of  time  reached 
Virginia,  where  it  seems  to  have  touched  State  pride 
and  jealousy  to  the  quick.  That  it  should  be  left  to 
New  York  to  commemorate  a  son  of  Virginia  who  had 
filled  the  chair  of  the  Chief  Magistrate  was  deemed  a 
reflection  on  the  Commonwealth,  and  steps  were  at 
once  taken  to  have  the  remains  removed  to  the  State 
capital.  To  create  public  sentiment  in  favor  of  this, 
exaggerated  reports  as  to  the  condition  of  the  Presi- 
dent's grave  were  spread  broadcast  through  the  State. 
He  was  reported  as  lying  in  an  old,  unused  burying- 
ground,  overgrown  with  weeds  and  vines,  in  the 
outskirts  of  the  city,  his  grave  unmarked,  and  cattle 
and  hogs  roaming  at  will  above  it.  A  committee  of 
two  was  appointed  by  Virginia  to  receive  the  remains 
and  attend  them  to  their  final  resting-place  in  Holly- 
wood Cemetery,  Richmond.  At  the  yard  the  exhuma- 
tion was  conducted  with  secrecy,  the  family  being 
desirous  of  avoiding  a  crowd. 

At  4.30  o'clock  on  the  2d  of  July,  1858,  a  carriage 
drove  up  to  the  cemetery  gate.  It  contained  Alderman 
Adams,  representing  the  Common  Council,  and  was 
soon  joined  by  carriages  containing  the  Virginia  dele- 
gates, Messrs.  Mumford  and  O.  Jennings  Wise,  Col. 
James  Monroe  and  S.  L.  Gouverneur  representing 
the  family,  a  delegation  of  resident  Virginians,  and  the 


34  In  Olde  New  York 

undertaker.  At  five  o'clock  the  coffin  of  the  ex-Presi- 
dent was  placed  in  the  hearse,  and,  amid  the  tolling 
of  bells,  with  the  flags  of  the  shipping  in  the  harbor  at 
half-mast,  was  conveyed  to  the  Church  of  the  Annun- 
ciation, in  Fourteenth  Street.  Here  and  at  the  City 
Hall  it  lay  in  state  for  several  days,  and  was  then  con- 
veyed to  Richmond  by  the  steamer  Jamestowriy  its 
escort,  the  famous  Seventh  Regiment,  proceeding  by 
the  Ericsson.  Old  members  of  that  gallant  corps 
still  remember  the  service  for  its  heat  and  discomforts. 

The  visitor,  perhaps,  will  be  apt  to  linger  longest 
about  vaults  191  and  192.  Here  re^t  the  unknown, 
unclaimed  remains  of  the  early  burghers  of  New 
Amsterdam.  What  a  stir  you  fancy  there  must  have 
been  among  the  ghosts  when  the  edict  for  clearing  out 
the  vaults  of  the  Old  South  went  forth.  A  hundred 
and  more  years  they  had  rested  undisturbed.  Genera- 
tions had  come  and  gone.  A  city  had  grown  up  around 
them.  Their  descendants,  like  their  property,  had 
been  scattered  over  the  earth,  and  now  none  remained 
to  care  for  their  bones.  The  church  authorities, 
alarmed  at  the  encroachments  of  the  city  on  their 
property,  ordered  a  removal  to  the  new  cemetery  up 
town.  Then  came  a  day  when  the  vaults  were  opened 
and  the  old  sexton  descended  with  his  box  to  gather 
up  the  dust. 

There  are  other  vaults  in  the  yard  prolific  of  mem- 
ories.    In  the  Morton  vault  lie  the  remains  of  General 


^c^     c       c 


c   "    c  c    (  -^     t 


■^     '    c  c  t    c   *■   c    '< 


Two  Marble  Cemeteries  35 

Jacob  Morton,  who  commanded  the  military  at  the 
obsequies  of  ex-President  Monroe.  The  receiving 
vault  held  for  some  years  the  body  of  the  Spanish- 
American  General  Paez,  who,  after  the  usual  stormy 
career  of  generals  in  his  country,  fled  to  New  York,  to 
find  the  death  he  had  escaped  in  far  more  warlike 
scenes  awaiting  him  here.  The  body  was  in  dispute 
among  the  relatives,  it  is  said,  and  when  the  question 
was  settled  it  was  removed  to  South  America  for  burial. 
Commodore  Eagle  of  the  navy  is  buried  at  the  west 
end  of  the  yard,  and  near  him  lies  Commodore  Bullus; 
the  latter,  with  his  wife  and  three  small  children,  was 
on  board  the  Chesapeake  when  the  Leopard  made  her 
murderous  attack.  They  were  on  their  way  to  a 
Mediterranean  Consulate  at  the  time,  and  during  the 
action  Mrs.  Bullus  and  her  children  were  removed 
from  the  cabin  to  a  place  of  safety,  but  the  Commodore, 
though  a  non-combatant,  remained  on  deck  and  fought 
gallantly  through  the  whole  affair. 


CHAPTER  IV 

•i 

SOME  OLD-TIME  FIGURES^ 

"  JOHN  I.  BROWERE  was  one  of  a  class  of  men 
^  peculiar  to  the  early  days  of  American  art.  A 
native  of  New  York,  he  was  in  his  youth  a  sign  painter. 
Showing  promising  talent,  he  was  induced  to  take 
lessons  under  Archibald  Robertson,  and  after  slight 
instruction  moved  to  TaiT3i;own  and  set  up  his  easel 
as  a  portrait  painter,  at  the  same  time  eking  out  his 
resources  by  teaching  school.  A  little  later  a  brother 
offered  him  a  free  passage  to  Leghorn  in  the  ship  he 
commanded,  and  the  artist  proceeded  to  Italy,  spend- 
ing two  years  there,  rambling  from  city  to  city  and 
diligently  studying  art,  and  more  especially  sculpture. 
Returning  to  America  about  1820,  he  built  a  studio 
in  the  rear  of  his  residence.  No.  315  Broadway,  adjoin- 
ing the  old  New  York  Hospital,  and  I  suppose  took 
the  bust  of  every  gentleman  of  note  then  living  in  the 
city.  Some  200  examples  of  his  work  are  said  to  be 
in  existence  in  New  York.  His  most  ambitious 
project  was  a  national  gallery  of  busts  and  statues  of 
distinguished  Americans,  a  project  encouraged  by 
*  This  was  written  in  1883. 


Some  Old  Time  Figures  37 

Jefferson,  Adams,  Lafayette,  and  all  the  famous  men 
of  the  day.  Browere  was  a  poet  and  inventor  as  well 
as  artist;  one  occasionally  comes  upon  his  verses  in 
the  albums  of  old  ladies  of  the  city;  he  also  invented 
a  stove  for  burning  anthracite  coal,  and  a  process  for 
manufacturing  oiled  silk,  which  gave  several  people 
immense  fortunes,  although  he,  owing  to  his  improvi- 
dence in  money  matters,  never  received  a  penny.  He 
died  poor  in  1834,  of  cholera,  after  only  six  hours' 
illness,  at  his  house  by  the  old  mile-stone  in  the  Bowery, 
leaving  his  gallery  only  half  completed.  His  son,  A. 
D.  O.  Browere,  the  artist,  has  recently  placed  on  ex- 
hibition a  completed  portion,  which  embraces  busts 
of  Jefferson,  Lafayette,  the  three  Adamses,  Madison, 
Clay,  DeWitt  Clinton,  the  three  captors  of  Andre, 
Forrest,  and  others." 

These  facts,  suggested  by  the  modest  sign,  "  Browere 's 
Busts  of  Distinguished  Americans,"  on  the  front  of 
the  building  No.  788  Broadway,  were  told  me  some 
twenty  years  ago  by  an  old  New  Yorker.  It  proved 
to  be  an  interesting  place  to  visit.  Climbing  two 
flights  of  long  winding  stairs  from  an  entrance  on 
Tenth  Street,  and  passing  through  a  long  passage, 
we  entered  the  gallery,  a  well-lighted,  neatly-carpeted 
room.  Twenty-three  busts  were  ranged  around  the 
sides,  and  there  were  others,  with  a  collection  of  the 
exhibitor's  paintings  in  an  ante-room.  The  busts  were 
interesting  certainly,  both  as  examples  of  the  art  of 


38  In  Olde  New  York 

1820-25  and  from  their  historic  associations,  but  still 
more  interesting  was  the  gossip  and  reminiscence  they 
inspired  in  the  white-haired  gentleman  who  exhibited 
them.  One  might  detect,  however,  running  through 
his  monologue  a  little  vein  of  resentment  at  the  indif- 
ference of  the  public  to  the  merits  of  his  collec- 
tion, and  the  efforts  made  in  certain  quarters  to 
discredit  it. 

"When  my  father  was  about  taking  the  cast  of 
Charles  Carroll,  of  CarroUton,"  said  he,  "he  received 
testimonials  of  his  skill  and  ability  from  the  first  gentle- 
men in  the  city.  I  will  read  you  this  from  Prof.  Samuel 
L.  Mitchell,  LL.D.,  which  was  endorsed  by  many 
others  equally  competent  to  judge."  From  a  little 
morocco-covered  book  he  read:  "I  approve  your  de- 
sign of  executing  a  likeness  in  statuary  of  the  Honor- 
able Charles  Carroll,  of  CarroUton.  When  you  shall 
present  yourself  to  him  within  a  few  days,  I  authorize 
you  to  employ  my  testimony  in  favor  of  your  skill. 
Having  submitted  more  than  once  to  your  plastic 
operations,  I  know  that  you  can  perform  it  successfully 
without  pain  and  within  a  reasonable  time.  The  like- 
nesses you  have  made  are  remarkably  exact;  so  much 
so  that  they  may  be  called  facsimile  imitations  of  the 
life.  Your  gallery  contains  so  many  specimens  of 
correct  casts  that  not  only  committees,  but  critical 
judges,  bear  witness  to  your  industry,  genius,  and 
talent." 


Some  Old  Time  Figures  39 

"Jefferson  writes  here  from  Monticello,  Adams 
from  Quincy,  Madison  from  Montpelier,  Clinton  from 
Albany,  all  bearing  witness  to  the  originality  and  life- 
likeness  of  the  casts  made  by  my  father;  but  when  at 
the  late  celebration  at  Tarrytown  I  wished  to  place 
the  busts  of  Van  Wart,  Williams,  and  Paulding  on  ex- 
hibition, it  was  objected  to  by  a  few  young  artists  and 
reporters,  on  the  ground  that  it  was  not  'good  art.' 
They  were  there,  though,  and  an  old  gentleman  came 
up  who  regarded  them  with  great  interest.  '  Who 
did  them.^'  said  he  at  length.  *My  father,  John  I. 
Browere,  the  sculptor,'  I  replied.  'I  knew  him  and 
them,'  he  rejoined,  'and  they  are  fine  examples.'  I 
afterward  learned  that  the  gentleman  was  Samuel  J. 
Tilden. 

"I  want  the  Government  to  make  bronze  copies  of 
the  casts,"  he  continued,  "and  place  them  in  the 
Capitol  or  some  museum  of  historical  characters,  but 
Congressmen  whom  I  have  approached  say  they 
cannot  be  worthy,  because  John  I.  Browere's  name 
does  not  appear  in  Dunlap's  book  of  American  ar- 
tists. I'll  tell  you  why  it  does  not  appear.  My 
father,  before  he  had  ever  met  Dunlap,  was  asked 
one  day  how  he  liked  his  '  Death  on  the  Pale  Horse '  ? 
'It's  a  strong  work,'  he  replied,  'but  looks  as  if  it 
was  painted  by  a  man  with  but  one  eye.'  The  re- 
mark was  reported  to  the  painter,  who  had  but  one 
eye,   and  he  was  mortally  offended;   he   blackballed 


40  In  Olde  New  York 

my  father  at  the  National  Academy,  and  subse- 
quently ignored  him  in  his  biographical  work." 

"The  greatest  difficulty  the  sculptor  had  in  secur- 
ing these,"  he  remarked,  turning  to  the  casts,  "was 
with  Lafayette's.  Of  course  he  was  very  desirous  of 
securing  the  distinguished  friend  of  America  for  his 
collection,  and  when  Lafayette  visited  the  city  in  1825 
a  committee  of  the  Common  Council  was  appointed 
to  induce  him  to  sit.  He  complied  after  much  per- 
suasion. The  composition  had  set  and  my  father 
was  about  taking  it  off,  when  the  clock  struck  and  a 
spectator  inadvertently  remarked  that  the  hour  for 
the  corporation  dinner  (which  Lafayette  was  to  attend) 
had  arrived.  * Sacre  hleuV  said  he,  starting  up,  *take 
it  off,  take  it  off,'  causing  a  piece  to  fall  from  under 
the  eye.  This  accident,  which  necessitated  a  second 
sitting,  led  to  some  interesting  correspondence  pre- 
served in  my  book  here  which  you  may  like  to  read. 
First  is  a  letter  from  the  Committee  of  the  Common 
Council  to  Lafayette,  dated  *New  York,  Saturday, 
12  o'clock,  July  12,  1825,'  as  follows: 

"*Dear  General:  We  have  just  been  to  see  your 
bust  by  Mr.  Browere,  and  have  pleasure  in  saying  it 
is  vastly  superior  to  any  other  hkeness  of  General 
Lafayette  which  as  yet  has  fallen  under  our  inspection. 
Indeed  it  is  a  faithful  resemblance  of  every  part  of 
your  features  and  form,  from  the  head  to  the  breast, 
with  the  exception  of  a  slight  defect  about  the  left  eye, 


Some  Old  Time  Figures  41 

caused  by  the  loss  of  the  material  of  which  the  mould 
was  made.  This  defect  Mr.  Browere  assures  us  (and 
we  have  confidence  in  his  assurance)  that  he  can  cor- 
rect in  a  few  moments  and  without  giving  you  any 
pain,  provided  you  will  again  condescend  to  submit 
to  his  operations  for  a  limited  time.  We  should  much 
regret  that  the  sKght  blemish  should  not  be  corrected, 
which  if  not  done  will  cause  to  us  and  to  the  nation  a 
continual  source  of  chagrin  and  disappointment.' 
Two  days  later  Alderman  King  wrote  my  father: 
*  Every  exertion  has  been  made  to  get  General 
Lafayette  to  spend  half  an  hour  to  get  the  eye  of  his 
portrait  bust  completed,  but  in  vain.  He  has  not  had 
more  than  four  hours  each  night  to  sleep,  but  has 
consented  that  you  may  take  his  mask  in  Philadelphia. 
He  left  New  York  this  morning  at  8,  and  will  be  in 
Philadelphia  on  Monday  next,  where  he  will  remain 
three  days.  If  you  can  be  present  there  on  Monday, 
or  Tuesday  at  furthest,  you  can  complete  the  matter. 
He  has  pledged  his  word.  This  arrangement  was  all 
that  could  be  effected  by  your  friend.'  My  father, 
you  see,  adds  this  postscript: 

"*The  subscribing  artist  met  General  Lafayette  on 
Monday  in  the  Hall  of  Independence,  Philadelphia, 
and  Tuesday  morning  from  7  to  8  was  busy  in  making 
another  likeness  from  the  face  and  head  of  the  General. 
At  4  P.M.  of  that  day  he  finished  the  bust  under  the 
eye  of  the  General  and  his  attendants,  and  had  the 


42  In  Olde  New  York 

pleasure  then  of  receiving  from  the  General  and  his 
son  their  assurances  that  it  was  the  only  good  bust 
ever  made  of  him.' 

"The  masks  of  Jefferson,  Madison,  and  Mrs.  Madi- 
son were  taken  with  several  others  during  a  visit  to 
Washington  made  by  my  father  in  1825.  It  was  his 
custom  to  get  a  certificate  of  genuineness  and  likeness 
from  each  sitter,  and  there  are  autograph  letters  in  this 
book  from  most  of  the  subjects,  to  that  effect.  Jeffer- 
son, for  instance,  writes  from  Monticello,  October  16, 
1825:  *At  the  request  of  the  Hon.  James  Madison,  and 
of  Mr.  Browere,  of  the  city  of  New  York,  I  hereby 
certify  that  Mr.  Browere  has  this  day  made  a  mould 
in  plaster  composition  from  my  person  for  the  purpose 
of  making  a  portrait  bust  and  statue  for  his  contem- 
plated National  Gallery.'  Here  is  a  bust  of  Hamilton 
modeled  from  a  miniature  by  Archibald  Robertson. 
Jackson's  bust  he  did  not  succeed  in  getting,  as  Powers 
had  preceded  him  by  a  few  days,  and  had  extorted  a 
promise  not  to  sit  to  any  other  artist.  He,  however, 
made  a  sketch.  The  finest  head  in  the  collection  is 
that  of  DeWitt  Clinton.  In  appearance  he  was  cer- 
tainly the  noblest  Roman  of  them  all. 

"I  must  repeat  an  impromptu  that  Samuel  Wood- 
worth,  author  of  *The  Old  Oaken  Bucket,'  made  on 
this  bust.  He  had  called  to  see  that  of  Admiral  Porter, 
and  as  he  stood  in  the  door  on  departing,  father  said: 
'Sammy,  here's  something  you  haven't  seen,'  at  the 


Some  Old  Time  Figures  43 

same  time  throwing  off  the  cloth  from  the  bust.     Wood- 
worth  made  a  gesture  as  of  restraint,  and  repeated: 

'Stay!  the  bust  that  graces  yonder  shelf 

claims  our  regard. 
It  is  the  front  of  Jove  himself. 

The  majesty  of  Virtue  not  of  Power! 
Before  which  Guilt  and  Meanness  only  cower. 

Who  can  behold  that  bust  and  not  exclaim, 
Let  everlasting  honor  claim  our  Clinton's  name?* 

made  his  bow,  and  departed. 

"Van  Wart's  bust  my  father  took  at  Tarrytown. 
Paulding  was  brought  to  No.  315  by  Alderman  Percy 
Van  Wyck.  Williams  gave  him  the  most  trouble. 
Twice  he  went  by  sloop  and  foot  to  Scoharie  to  take 
his  mask,  and  both  times  the  veteran  was  away  from 
home.  At  length  Williams  came  to  Peekskill  on  a 
visit,  General  Delavan  sent  my  father  word,  and  he 
went  up  there  and  took  it.  This  was  a  short  time  be- 
fore Williams's  death.  J.  W.  Parkinson,  a  gentleman 
of  leisure  in  New  York  fifty  years  ago,  reputed  to  be  a 
natural  son  of  George  IV.,  once  offered  my  father 
$3000  for  the  casts  of  the  captors  of  Andre,  his  inten- 
tion being  to  destroy  them,  but  my  father  refused  the 
offer.  There  is  a  story  connected  with  this  bust  of 
Forrest  the  tragedian.  There  is  no  hair  on  the  head, 
you  see.  When  that  was  taken  the  actor  was  com- 
paratively unknown,  having  just  made  his  appearance 
in  *  William  Tell'  at  the  Old  Bowery  Theatre.  My 
father  declared  that  he  would  make  an  actor  of  note. 


44  In  Olde  New  York 

and  asked  to  take  his  mask  for  his  gallery.  On  the 
night  the  bust  was  taken,  Forrest  was  to  play  William 
Telly  and  fearing  the  plaster  mould  might  cKng  to  his 
hair,  he  donned  a  silk  cap  for  the  operation." 

By  and  by,  as  no  visitors  appeared  to  interrupt,  Mr. 
Browere's  recollections  assumed  a  more  personal  cast. 
He  submitted  to  our  inspection  a  time-stained  certifi- 
cate of  membership  in  the  National  Academy,  dated 
1838,  and  signed  by  Henry  Inman,  President,  and  also 
a  letter  informing  him  that  his  picture  of  "  Canonicus  " 
had  drawn  the  first  Academy  prize  of  $100.  We  were 
also  shown  several  of  his  paintings,  some  California 
landscapes,  and  three  scenes  from  the  life  of  Rip  Van 
Winkle. 


CHAPTER  V 

NEW  YORK   CITY   IN   1827 

/^NE  conversant  with  the  history  of  New  York 
^^-^  knows  how  rapidly  change  has  occurred  in  the 
city,  but  he  cannot  realize  it  vividly  until  he  has  loitered 
along  its  streets  with  some  genial  veteran  who  knew 
the  town  in  his  youth,  and  loves  nothing  better  than 
to  impart  his  reminiscences  to  the  sympathetic  hstener. 
Such  a  walk  in  such  company  we  once  had  the 
pleasure  of  taking,  our  route  being  down  the  Bowery 
from  Astor  Place  to  Franklin  Square,  and  thence  to 
the  City  Hall. 

"All  north  of  Astor  Place,  in  1825,"  said  our  com- 
panion, "  was  open  country,  a  region  of  farms,  thickets, 
swamps,  market  gardens  and  fine  old  country  seats 
in  extensive  grounds.  My  early  memories  of  the 
region  beyond  St.  Mark's  Church  yonder  are  grue- 
some enough.  It  was  then  known  as  Stuyresant 
Meadows,  and  gained  unenviable  notoriety  by  the 
hanging  there  of  one  John  Johnson,  whose  cast,  taken 
by  Browere,  may  still  be  seen  at  Fowler  &  Wells's. 
Johnson  was  the  great  criminal  of  his  day.  He  kept 
a  sailor's  boarding-house  on  Water  Street,  and  one 


46  In  Olde  New  York 

night  murdered  a  farmer  who  had  put  up  at  his  house, 
having,  as  Johnson  thought,  some  money  about  him. 
The  murderer  put  the  remains  in  a  sack,  and  was  sur- 
prised, at  night,  carrying  it  through  Schuyler's  Alley 
toward  the  river.  Guilt  made  him  a  coward.  He 
dropped  the  sack  and  ran,  its  contents  were  thus  dis- 
covered, and  he  was  tried  and  sentenced  by  Judge 
Edwards  to  be  hanged.  The  procession,  up  Broad- 
way to  Bleecker,  across  to  the  Bowery,  then  down 
Ninth  Street  to  the  gallows,  called  out  the  greatest 
crowd  New  York  had  ever  seen,  and  led  to  the  aboH- 
tion  of  such  displays.  Johnson  was  attired  for  the 
occasion  in  white,  with  a  white  cap  drawn  over  his 
head.  He  rode  in  an  open  carriage  escorted  by 
Stewart's  troop  of  cavalry  in  advance,  and  a  detach- 
ment of  the  National  Guard  in  the  rear,  while  an  im- 
mense crowd  of  all  ages  and  both  sexes  followed." 

We  had  now  progressed  as  far  down  the  Bowery 
as  Bleecker  Street.  "Bleecker  was  my  great  black- 
berry preserve  when  I  was  a  boy,"  observed  our 
cicerone,  with  a  sigh.  "What  luscious  berries  grew 
beside  the  walls  on  either  side,  and  roses  —  no  such 
roses  bloom  nowadays."  A  few  doors  below  Bleecker, 
he  stopped  opposite  a  beer  saloon.  "Right  here 
Charlotte  Temple  lived  after  her  retirement  from  the 
stage,  and  died  here.  The  house  was  one  story  high, 
with  two  dormer-windows  and  a  trellis  on  both  sides 
covered  with  the  luxuriant  vines  of  the  trumpet-flower. 


New  York  in  1827  47 

There  was  a  little  yard  in  front  about  twenty  feet 
deep  filled  with  shrubs  and  flowers.  The  house  was  a 
Mecca  for  the  good  and  gifted  of  the  city  so  long  as  its 
mistress  resided  there,  and  few  strangers  of  distinction 
came  to  the  city  without  paying  a  visit  there.  It  was 
known  for  some  time  after  her  death  as  the  'Temple 
House,'  and  finally  was  turned  into  a  drinking  saloon 
called  the  Gotham. 

"The  Bowery  in  those  days  resembled  a  country 
road;  it  was  unpaved  and  sandy  above  Spring  Street, 
and  was  studded  pretty  thickly  with  residences  of  the 
gentry.  These  had  high  stoops  fronting  the  road, 
and  were  embowered  in  trees  and  shrubbery.  Many 
a  summer  night  I  have  seen  whole  families  on  the  stoops 
enjoying  the  cool  of  the  evening,  and  children  trundling 
hoops  or  playing  marbles  on  the  sidewalk.  There 
was  one  institution  peculiar  to  the  Bowery  in  those  days, 
or  at  least  it  attained  greater  perfection  there  than  in 
other  parts  of  the  city.  I  refer  to  the  hot-corn  venders. 
These  were  exclusively  colored  women,  each  dressed 
as  neatly  as  though  she  had  come  out  of  a  bandbox, 
with  a  flaming  bandanna  handkerchief  on  her  head  tied 
in  a  peak.  West  India  fashion,  the  ends  hanging  down, 
and  clean  white  or  checked  apron.  They  sat  on 
stools  at  the  street  corners  and  noted  places,  each  with 
a  pail  beside  her,  filled  with  hot  com  on  the  ear,  and  a 
small  cup  on  each  side,  one  containing  salt  and  the 
other  butter.     When  a  patron  approached  she  handed 


48  In  Olde  New  York 

him  a  smoking  ear,  and  the  salt  and  butter;  the  latter 
he  gravely  rubbed  on  the  ear  and  ate  as  he  stood. 
Their  cry  was  musical,  and  could  be  heard  blocks 
away.  *Hot  corn,  hot  corn!  here's  your  lily  white 
hot  com,'  they  cried,  but  an  old  woman  who  sold  on 
the  comer  of  Hester  and  Bond  Streets,  improved  on 
this.     Her  cry  was: 

*Hot  com,  hot  com! 
Some  for  a  penny  and  some  two  cents. 
Com  cost  money  and  fire  expense. 
Here's  yom*  lily-white  hot  corn!' 

"There  were  almost  as  many  venders  on  the  streets 
then  as  now,  but  more  characteristic  and  picturesque. 
Some  bore  trays  containing  baked  pears  swimming 
in  molasses,  which  the  purchaser  took  between  his 
thumb  and  finger  and  ate.  The  *sand  man'  was  a 
verity  in  those  days.  All  the  barrooms,  restaurants, 
and  many  of  the  kitchens  in  the  city  had  sanded  floors, 
and  men  in  long  white  frocks,  with  two-wheeled  carts, 
peddling  Rockaway  sand,  were  familiar  objects  on 
the  streets.  Then  there  were  the  darkeys  who  sold 
bundles  of  straw  for  filling  beds,  and  an  old  blind 
man  who  sold  door-mats  made  of  picked  tar  rope. 
One  of  the  most  genial  and  popular  landlords  in  the 
city  I  have  seen  peddling  pails  of  pure  spring  water 
in  the  Bowery  at  two  cents  a  pail.  He  brought  it  from 
what  was  then  called  Greenwich  Village,  above  Aaron 
Burr's  Richmond  Hill  mansion. 


New  York  in  1827  49 

"This  is  the  most  distinctive  landmark  of  old  New 
York  I  have  seen,"  he  remarked  when  another  block 
was  passed,  patting  affectionately  as  he  spoke  a  mossy 
old  mile-stone  set  in  the  sidewalk  nearly  opposite 
Rivington  Street,  which  bore  this  legend,  "1  Mile 
from  City  Hall."  "Many  a  tired  passenger  in  the 
four-horse  tally-ho  six  days  on  the  road  from  Boston 
has  gleefully  hailed  this  stone.  The  drivers  of  the 
Harlem  and  Manhattanville  stages  always  greeted  it 
with  a  merrier  bugle  peal.  In  those  days  we  hadn't 
thought  of  a  railroad,  and  the  Erie  Canal  was  just 
being  opened.  Spring  Street  marked  the  limits  of  the 
paved  streets  in  this  direction  when  I  was  a  boy  and 
young  man.  The  walks  were  mostly  of  bricks  laid 
cat-a-comered,  in  those  days. 

"  You  see  that  third  house  on  the  side  street.  There 
I  found  my  wife.  I  was  passing  one  morning  and  saw 
her  through  the  window  looking  down  the  street. 
Suddenly  she  became  aware  that  I  was  staring  at  her, 
and  slammed  the  blind  to  with  energy.  'Sam,'  said  I 
to  my  brother,  *that  girl's  going  to  be  my  wife.'  Pass- 
ing that  way  a  few  days  after,  I  saw  a  notice  out  that 
boarders  would  be  taken,  and  presented  myself  as  a 
candidate.  Six  months  after  we  were  married.  That 
is  fifty  years  ago,  and  I  have  never  had  cause  to  regret 
it;  she  has  been  a  good  wife. 

"  I  never  cross  Grand  Street "  —  we  had  reached 
the  roar  and  rush  of  that  thoroughfare  — "  without 


50  In  Olde  New  York 

thinking  of  a  walk  I  had  down  it  to  the  ferry  in  1823. 
There  was  to  be  a  race  that  day  on  a  course  near 
where  the  Union  course  was  opened  later,  and  all 
New  York  interested  in  sport  went  out  there  to  see  it. 
The  race  was  between  Eclipse  and  Sir  Henry,  and  the 
great  interest  taken  in  it  arose  from  the  fact  that  it  had 
been  arranged  between  the  horsemen  of  the  North 
and  South  to  test  the  merits  of  the  thoroughbreds  of 
the  two  sections.  EcHpse  represented  the  North  and 
Sir  Henry  the  South.  There  was  not  a  house  on  Grand 
Street  then  between  Essex  Street  and  the  ferry.  I  saw 
on  the  south  wild  marshy  pasture  fields,  with  cattle 
grazing  among  the  black  berry  and  wild-rose  bushes, 
and  in  the  distance  on  the  hills  some  old  Dutch  farm- 
houses. Colonel  Willet's  place,  on  the  left,  a  fine  old 
country  mansion,  I  remember,  standing  back  from 
the  road  amid  its  orchards.  Grand  Street  Ferry  was 
then  known  as  the  'Hook'  ferry.  You  would  laugh 
at  the  ferry-boats  of  those  days.  They  had  open 
decks  with  an  awning  stretched  over  and  benches 
around  the  sides,  and  were  propelled  by  horse-power. 
From  four  to  sixteen  horses  were  required,  and  they 
walked  around  a  shaft  in  the  center  of  the  boat,  turn- 
ing it  as  sailors  turn  the  capstan,  and  this  shaft  by 
gearing  turned  the  paddle  wheels.  On  some  boats 
the  horses  worked  a  tread  mill  like  the  modem  thresh- 
ing machines.  The  North  triumphed  that  day  — 
Eclipse  won.     I  doubt  if  he  would,  however,  had  it 


New  York  in  1827  51 

not  been  for  Sam  Purdy,  a  noted  jockey  of  that  time. 
Eclipse  lost  the  first  heat,  and  Purdy  saw  from  his 
place  on  the  judge's  stand  that  his  jockey  was  goring 
him  so  terribly  that  he  bled.  So  he  leaped  from  the 
stand,  pulled  the  jockey  off,  and  mounted  in  his  place. 
Echpse  felt  the  change  at  once,  put  his  head  up  and 
tail  out  and  won  the  next  two  heads  easily,  putting 
$20,000  in  his  master's  pocket." 

Chatham  Square  and  Franklin  Square  recalled  many 
reminiscences,  but  not  of  a  nature  to  interest  the 
public.  In  City  Hall  Park,  however,  our  friend's 
recollections  became  of  more  general  interest.  "The 
City  Hall  had  just  been  built  then,  between  two  prisons, 
the  Bridewell  and  jail.  The  jail,  or  debtor's  prison, 
was  east  of  the  hall  and  surrounded  with  a  tight  board 
fence  about  eight  feet  high.  On  the  Chambers  Street 
side  of  the  Park  were  three  buildings,  all  under  one 
roof.  First  (nearest  Broadway)  was  the  American 
or  Scudder's  Museum,  then  the  Academy  of  Fine 
Arts,  and  the  Almshouse,  the  artist  and  showman 
being  not  far  from  the  Almshouse  at  that  day  in  more 
senses  than  one.  John  Vanderlyn's  Rotunda  came 
next  on  the  east.  Vanderlyn  had  been  discovered  by 
Colonel  Burr,  in  an  interior  town,  covering  his  master's 
blacksmith's  shop  with  charcoal  sketches,  and  had 
been  sent  by  him  to  Paris  and  Rome  for  education  in 
art.  His  *Marius  amid  the  ruins  of  Carthage'  had 
taken  the  prize  at  Paris  under  Napoleon,  and  he  re- 


52  In  Olde  New  York 

turned  to  New  York  comparatively  famous.  The  city, 
thinking  to  do  something  for  American  art,  built  the 
Rotunda  and  gave  Vanderlyn  the  lease  of  it  for  a 
studio,  and  for  the  exhibition  of  his  pictures.  He 
exhibited  there  his  *Marius,'  *  Ariadne,'  and  the  'Gar- 
den of  Versailles,'  the  latter  a  panorama  taking  up 
two  sides  of  the  room.  Speaking  of  pictures,  Michael 
Paff  once  made  a  lucky  discovery.  Paff  was  a  picture 
dealer,  having  a  store  on  Broadway,  near  Vesey,  and 
the  best  art  connoisseur  in  the  city.  A  gentleman  in 
town  had  a  large  picture  of  Esther  before  King  Ahas- 
uerus,  that  he  had  secured  at  an  auction  sale,  and 
which  his  wife  was  desirous  of  exchanging  for  two 
landscapes  at  Paff's.  Paff  good-naturedly  made  the 
exchange,  but  in  cleaning  up  his  new  purchase  dis- 
covered it  to  be  a  genuine  Van  Dyck.  After  that  he 
spent  about  a  week  to  the  square  inch  cleaning  and 
bringing  out  the  original  color.  Wealthy  gentlemen, 
art  patrons,  would  drop  in  during  the  process,  and 
offer  to  purchase.  Paff's  first  price  was  $1000,  after 
that  he  rose  $1000  on  every  offer  not  accepted.  Lyman 
Reid,  the  patron  of  Cole,  offered  him  $7000  for  it, 
which  was  quickly  rejected,  Paff's  price  having  then 
risen  to  $16,000.  I  was  in  the  store  one  day  with  Alfred 
Pell  and  Lyman  Reid  when  Sir  Robert  Porter  came  in 
and  offered  Paff  $12,000  for  the  picture,  saying  he  was 
authorized  to  give  that  sum  and  no  more  by  the  National 
Gallery,  of  London.     Paff  refused,  and  held  on  to  the 


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^1' 


New  York  in  1827  53 

picture  till  his  death.  After  that  event,  his  widow 
sold  the  picture  to  the  National  Gallery,  it  was  said, 
for  $20,000.  I  could  give  you  a  volume  of  reminis- 
cences about  the  old  American  Museum.  It  had  been 
removed  to  the  site  of  the  later  Herald  Building, 
and  had  ruined  several  owners,  when  P.  T.  Bamum 
got  hold  of  it  and  made  a  success  of  it. 

"A  fence  surrounded  the  Park  in  those  days,  with 
an  entrance  gate  on  the  west.  On  the  Chatham  Street 
side  were  a  number  of  low  one-story  buildings  — 
cigar  shops,  beer  saloons,  and  the  pawn-shop  of  William 
Stevenson,  the  first  of  the  kind  ever  opened  in  New 
York.  Right  opposite,  on  the  comer  of  Frankfort 
Street,  stood  Tammany  Hall,  the  cradle  of  the  present 
famous  organization;  the  modem  sachems,  you  will 
reflect,  were  but  papooses  then.  The  Hall  was  used 
chiefly  for  public  meetings  of  a  political  cast.  The 
real  council-room  of  the  braves  was  a  saloon  a  hundred 
feet  back  on  Frankfort  Street,  called  the  *  Pewter  Mug.' 
Here  the  chiefs  held  their  pow-wows,  and  the  plan 
of  their  campaigns  was  mapped  out.  Several  lawyers 
of  note  had  offices  in  the  Hall.  Aaron  Burr's  was  on 
the  south  side  of  the  building.  Many  a  time  have  I 
seen  him  help  Madame  Jumel  into  her  carriage  stand- 
ing before  the  door,  and  he  did  it  with  incomparable 
grace." 


CHAPTER  VI 


SOME   OLD   BOOKSELLERS 


/^^F  the  many  obscure  callings  by  which  men  gain 
^^-^  a  liveHhood  in  New  York  none  is  more  useful 
than  that  of  the  antiquarian  booksellers,  of  whom 
there  were  in  1885  about  twenty  in  the  city.  The 
favorite  home  of  this  class  was  then  the  region  trav- 
ersed by  William  and  Nassau  streets,  which  may  be 
said  to  be  bounded  somewhat  indefinitely,  by  Cliff 
Street  on  the  east  and  Broadway  on  the  "west. 

These  estabhshments  displayed  no  gilded  signs  or 
plate-glass  windows  to  the  pubhc  gaze.  They  never 
advertised  in  the  public  prints ;  they  rather  avoided  than 
sought  publicity,  being  hidden  away  in  musty,  ill- 
smelling  apartments,  up  many  flights  of  narrow  stairs, 
or  at  the  end  of  long,  dimly-lighted  passages.  Their 
customers  in  person  were  few,  their  chief  patrons  being 
the  collectors  and  bibliophiles  of  the  entire  country, 
and  these  were  reached  by  catalogues  issued  quarterly. 
These  catalogues  were  often  extensive  and  elaborate, 
and  displayed  much  wit  and  ingenuity  in  their  con- 
struction. The  first  page  of  a  catalogue  of  1868,  for 
instance,  reads  as  follows: 


Some  Old  Booksellers  55 

"Two  thousand  seven  hundred  personals,  funeral 
sermons,  eulogies,  biographical  sketches,  memorials, 
&c.,  which  may  be  bought  —  if  any  one  wants  them 

—  of ,  who,  on  receipt  of  the  trifling  number  of 

cents  hinted  at  just  to  the  left  of  the  place  and  date 
of  imprint  will  take  pleasure  in  sending  any  one  or 
more  of  them,  at  his  own  expense,  to  any  place  where 
Uncle  Sam  keeps  a  post-office." 

The  "Motto"  is  the  following  sentiment  from 
Horace  Greeley: 

"A  man  who  does  not  care  enough  about  his  rela- 
tions to  pay  four  shillings  for  a  funeral  sermon  on  his 
grandfather,  or  even  on  his  mother-in-law,  is  a  bom 
ingrate,  and  meaner  than  a  goat  thief." 

Another  is  a  "catalogue  of  about  two  bushels  of 
tidbits  relating  to  that  never-to-be-forgotten  scrim- 
mage   the    American    Revolution,    for    sale    by , 

book  peddler."  In  his  preface  to  the  same  the  old 
bookseller  thus  refers  to  some  of  the  bores  that  infect 
a  bookseller's  shop: 

"  At  the  instance  of  a  considerable  number  of  friendly 
critics  who  have  heretofore  more  than  made  up  by 
their  willingness  to  give  good  advice  for  their  reluc- 
tance to  buy  anything,  but  who  without  doubt  are  only 
waiting  for  me  to  show  a  proper  and  becoming  appre- 
ciation of  their  views,  I  have  requested  the  printer  to 
put  the  A's  at  one  end  of  this  Hst  and  the  W's  at  an- 
other, and  call  it  a  catalogue.    As  I  am  now  for  the 


56  In  Olde  New  York 

first  time  trying  to  cater  to  a  class  of  pundits  who 
know  what's  what,  I  have  not  ventured  to  apply  the 
terms  rare  and  scarce,  nor  any  one  of  the  endless 
changes  which  may  be  rung  upon  them  by  the  hand 
of  a  master.  I  trust,  however,  that  I  shall  be  par- 
doned (as  I  have  a  family  to  support)  for  mentioning 
that  a  considerable  number  of  my  tidbits  were  con- 
sidered by  Mr.  Stevens  worthy  a  place  in  his  catalogue 
of  nuggets,  and  that  not  a  few  of  them  are  so  uncommon 
that  they  have  escaped  the  notice  of  the  compiler  of 
that  invaluable  handbook,  Sabin's  Dictionary,  and  his 
hundred-eyed  corps  of  assistants.  Perhaps  —  as  is 
constitutional  with  me  —  I  have  been  modester  than 
I  could  afford,  and  that  I  ought  to  have  made  an  un- 
sparing use  of  the  adjectives  and  peppered  my  book 
with  them,  hit  or  miss.  The  die  is  cast,  however; 
quite  likely  I  may  not  sell  a  tidbit;  but  I  am  determined 
this  once  to  give  my  modesty  the  rein,  and  like  Lord 
Timothy  Dexter,  let  critic  or  customer  pepper  or  salt 
this,  my  first  catalogue,  to  suit  himself. 

"  Having  chosen  my  exemplar,  I  will  be  no  less 
attentive  to  the  convenience  of  my  critics  and  cus- 
tomers than  was  his  Lord  Timothyship  to  the  wants 
of  his  readers.  I  have  therefore  copied  for  their  use, 
from  a  recent  auction  catalogue,  a  few  of  the  adjec- 
tives and  persuasives  applied  to  such  of  the  commoner 
tidbits  as  the  owner  had  been  able  to  *buy  at  a  bar- 
gain.*   *  Scarce,'  *Very  scarce,'    *Rare,'    *Very  Rare,' 


Some  Old  Booksellers  57 

"Tres  Rare'  (that's  French).  *  Unattainable  except  at 
pubhc  sale.'  *Not  mentioned  by  Rich.'  *We  have 
never  sold  a  copy.'  *We  are  unable  to  record  any 
other  copy.'" 

The  immense  private  collections  which  are  from 
time  to  time  unloaded  upon  the  market  hurt  the  trade 
and  are  greatly  dreaded  by  the  old  booksellers.  Such 
a  collection  was  the  Brinley  Ubrary,  sold  at  auction 
in  New  York. 

In  his  catalogue,  issued  soon  after  the  sale,  one  of 
the  tradesmen  thus  labors  with  the  deluded  buyers  who 
will  purchase  at  auction  rather  than  of  the  trade: 

"This  sale  footed  up  nearly  $49,000.  Mr.  Brinley, 
by  his  will,  not  less  wisely  than  generously,  gave  to 
five  public  libraries  $24,500,  to  be  bought  out  or,  as  a 
book-peddler  would  express  it,  in  trade. 

"The  libraries  of  the  favored  institutions  fought 
nobly.  So  nobly  that  it  is  doubtful  if  the  bequests 
will  make  the  estate  a  dollar  the  poorer.  Of  books  so 
rare  that  I  know  nothing  about  their  value,  I  will  say 
as  little  as  I  know.  Rare  books  that  I  had  seen  sold 
before,  sold  high.  The  greater  part  of  the  catalogue 
sold  very  high.  Hundreds  of  common  books  —  so 
common  that  they  may  readily  be  found  in  bookstores, 
and  yet  not  unworthy  a  place  in  this  splendid  collec- 
tion —  sold  at  prices  far  beyond  what  any  bookseller 
would  dare  to  ask.  Buyers  of  such,  except '  on  account,' 
generally  got  their  fingers  burnt.     I  had  myself  just 


58  In  Olde  New  York 

enough  of  that  sort  of  experience  to  know  how  it  feels. 
Having  by  mistake  bought  lot  1785  for  $15,  I  had  it 
resold  on  my  account;  it  brought  $7.  At  the  reselling 
the  librarians  did  not  rally  worth  a  cent.  I  would  have 
cheerfully  given  their  institutions  a  dollar  apiece  all 
round  if  they  had  stood  by  me. 

"Lot  163,  Chalmers  Annals,  found  an  appreciative 
buyer  at  $18.50.  I  sold  the  young  gentleman  from 
the  country,  who  bid  $18,  a  much  better  copy  the  next 
morning  for  half  the  money.  The  same  buyer  secured 
lot  176,  Phillips's  Paper  Currency,  at  $7.50.  I  can 
generally  furnish  it  at  hve,  ten  off  to  public  hbraries. 
I  may  leave  them  nothing  by  will,  but  mean  to  do  my 
level  best  by  them  as  long  as  I  live. 

"Lot  205,  Trumbull's  United  States,  somebody 
must  have  been  in  a  great  hurry  for.  It  brought  $3. 
The  next  bidder  is  my  aflSnity,  if  I  could  only  find  him. 
I  should  be  happy  to  sell  him  a  clean,  uncut  copy  for  a 
dollar. 

"Lot  234,  Knox's  Journal,  lacking  a  portrait  and  a 
title-page,  was  snapped  up  at  $16.  I  have  a  copy  which 
could  be  made  as  good  as  Mr.  Brinley's  by  pulling 
out  a  title-page  —  it  already  fills  the  bill  in  lacking 
a  portrait  —  which  I  am  dying  to  sell  for  ten. 

"No.  289,  Drake's  Address,  sold  for  $2.  If  the 
previous  bidder  will  send  a  small  boy  with  seventy- 
five  cents  he  will  get  a  copy  by  return  boy. 

"No.    325,   Lechford,   $2.75.     I   have  a  few  more 


Some  Old  Booksellers  59 

left  of  the  same  sort  at  $1.50.  No.  374,  Noah  Web- 
ster's version  of  Winthrop's  Journal,  $10.  I  sold  as 
good  a  copy  not  long  since  at  $4.  Numbers  267  and 
390,  Commissionary  Wilson's  Orderly  Book  and 
Easton's  King  Philip,  as  it  is  called  for  short,  are  num- 
bers I.  and  II.  of  Munsell's  Historical  Series,  in  10 
volumes,  which  during  the  large  paper  and  Umited 
edition  mania  used  to  sell  as  high  as  $400  per  set. 
The  two  volumes  brought  $26.50.  A  complete  set  in 
half  morocco  will  be  found  in  this  catalogue  at  $35. 

"No.  331,  Papers  Concerning  the  Attack  on  Hatfield 
and  Deerfield,  wiped  out  sixteen  of  the  ten  thousand 
dollars  given  to  Yale  College.  It  used  to  sell  at  a 
much  higher  figure,  but  times  have  changed.  I  sold  a 
copy  a  short  time  ago  for  five. 

"No.  412,  News  from  New  England,  2  copies,  both 
found  purchasers  at  $2.25.  I  have  a  copy,  see  my 
No.  274,  at  seventy-five  cents. 

"No.  767,  James  Fitch's  Connecticut  Election 
Sermon,  Cambridge,  1674,  the  first  printed,  sold  for 
$38.  In  a  note  to  lot  2154  Dr.  Trumbull,  the  cata- 
loguer, says:  'Five  [Conn.  Election]  sermons  were 
printed  in  Cambridge  and  Boston  before  a  press  was 
established  in  Connecticut.  Of  these  five,  four  will 
be  found  elsewhere  in  this  catalogue.'  That's  so,  and 
the  four,  which  were  the  first,  third,  fourth  and  fifth, 
brought  an  average  of  $25.50  each.  In  the  same  note 
Dr.   Trumbull,   whose   notes   are   always   interesting. 


60  In  Olde  New  York 

says  further:  *Mr.  Brinley  began  this  collection  nearly 
forty  years  ago,  and  allowed  no  opportunity  of  com- 
pleting and  perfecting  it  to  escape.'  I  sold  a  beautiful 
copy  of  the  one  which  Mr.  Brinley  did  not  have  a  short 
time  ago  for  $15.  I  always  sent  my  catalogue  to  the 
gentlemen  who  bought  the  other  four,  but  buyers  at 
auction  of  course  save  the  book-peddlers*  profit. 

"Of  numbers  975,  1029,  50,  81,  96  and  1117, 
'Mathers,'  good  copies  will  be  found  in  this  catalogue 
at  peddlers'  prices.  Numbers  1356,  7,  Drake's 
Witchcraft  Delusion,  small  and  large  paper,  sold  for 
$9.00  and  $10.50  in  paper.  I  sell  them  at  five  and 
six.  No.  1359,  Drake's  Annals  of  Witchcraft,  sold 
for  $8.75  in  cloth.  I  sell  it  for  $2.50  in  paper.  An- 
other half  dollar  would  buy  a  cloth  jacket  for  it,  leav- 
ing nearly  two-thirds  of  the  money  toward  buying  the 
buyer  a  jacket. 

"No.  1377  was  bought  by  the  author  for  $2.25. 
For  the  money  I  would  have  given  him  three  copies. 
I  catalogue  it  at  seventy-five  cents  and  always  send 
him  my  catalogues. 

"I  have  an  indistinct  recollection  of  having  in  my 
early  youth  read  a  short  fist  of  conundrums,  each  one 
of  which  was  too  much  for  an  eastern  king  whose 
reputation  for  wisdom  stood  high.  Had  Solomon  — 
I  think  that  was  the  king's  name  —  attended  the 
Brinley  sale  I  am  convinced  that  in  his  list  of  things 
which  no  fellow  can  find  out  would  be  ranked  as  the 


Some  Old  Booksellers  61 

knottiest  the  question  why  book-buyers  in  bookshops 
are  so  stingy  and  in  book  auctions  so  lavish." 

There  are  specialists,  even  among  the  dealers  in 
dead  books,  one  being  known  to  his  fellows  as  dealing 
largely  in  genealogies  and  kindred  works;  another 
makes  a  specialty  of  rare  foreign  books  and  prints; 
another  confines  himself  to  rare  Americana;  while  a 
fourth  devotes  his  energies  exclusively  to  the  collection 
and  sale  of  American  pamphlets.  A  chance  service 
rendered  one  of  the  guild,  in  the  discovery  of  a  rare 
volume,  gained  me  his  good  will,  a  seat  at  his  fireside, 
and  a  share  in  the  racy  anecdotes  with  which  he  en- 
livened it;  these  anecdotes  covered  a  wide  range  of 
subjects,  and  included  reminiscences  of  the  famous 
literary  men  of  two  generations  who  had  frequented 
his  shop.  Some  of  these  reminiscences  I  am  sure  will 
interest  the  reader. 

Of  Poe  he  said:  "The  character  drawn  of  Poe  by 
his  various  biographers  and  critics  may  with  safety 
be  pronounced  an  excess  of  exaggeration,  but  this  is 
not  to  be  much  wondered  at  when  it  is  considered  that 
these  men  were  his  rivals,  either  as  poets  or  prose- 
writers,  and  it  is  well  known  that  such  are  generally  as 
jealous  of  each  other  as  are  the  ladies  who  are  hand- 
some of  those  who  desire  to  be  considered  so.  It  is  an 
old  truism,  and  as  true  as  it  is  old,  that  in  the  multitude 
of  counsellors  there  is  safety.  I  therefore  will  show 
you  my  opinion  of  this  gifted  but  unfortunate  genius:  it 


62  In  Olde  New  York 

may  be  estimated  as  worth  Kttle,  but  it  has  this  merit: 
It  comes  from  an  eye-  and  ear-witness,  and  this,  it 
must  be  remembered,  is  the  very  highest  of  legal  evi- 
dence. For  eight  months  or  more,  'one  house  con- 
tained us,  us  one  table  fed.'  During  that  time  I  saw 
much  of  him,  and  had  an  opportunity  of  conversing 
with  him  often;  and  I  must  say  I  never  saw  him  the 
least  affected  with  Kquor,  nor  ever  descend  to  any 
known  vice,  while  he  was  one  of  the  most  courteous, 
gentlemanly  and  intelligent  companions  I  have  ever 
met.  Besides,  he  had  an  extra  inducement  to  be  a 
good  man,  for  he  had  a  wife  of  matchless  beauty  and 
loveliness;  her  eye  could  match  that  of  any  houri, 
and  her  face  defy  the  genius  of  a  Canova  to  imitate; 
her  temper  and  disposition  were  of  surpassing  sweet- 
ness; in  addition,  she  seemed  as  much  devoted  to  him 
and  his  every  interest  as  a  young  mother  is  to  her 
first-bom.  During  this  time  he  wrote  his  longest 
prose  romance,  entitled  the  Adventures  of  Arthur 
Gordon  Pym.  Poe  had  a  remarkably  pleasing  and 
prepossessing  countenance  —  what  the  ladies  would 
call  decidedly  handsome.  He  died  after  a  brief  and 
fitful  career  at  Baltimore,  October,  1849,  where  his 
remains  lie  interred  in  an  obscure  burjdng-ground." 

Of  Simms  he  showed  this  entry  in  his  diary,  under 
date  of  October  15, 1868:  "To-day  I  had  the  pleasure  of 
a  call  from  William  Gilmore  Simms,  the  novelist. 
He  is  quite  affable  in  conversation,  and  apparently 


Some  Old  Booksellers  63 

well  stocked  with  general  information,  which  he  can 
impart  with  fluency.  He  appears  somewhat  down- 
cast, or  rather,  I  should  say,  has  a  melancholy  cast  of 
countenance :  he  is  advanced  in  years,  with  a  profusion 
of  hair  around  his  face,  chin  and  throat  —  is  apparently 
between  sixty  and  seventy  years  of  age.  I  requested 
him  to  enroll  his  name  in  my  autograph-book,  which 
he  did  with  readiness.  He  remarked  that  he  was 
often  requested  to  do  so,  especially  by  the  ladies.  I 
replied  that  this  was  a  debt  which  every  man  incurred 
when  he  became  public  property  either  by  his  words, 
actions,  or  writings.  He  acquiesced  in  the  justice  of 
the  remark.  Mr.  Simms  was  in  search  of  a  copy  of 
Johnson's  History  of  the  Seminoles,  to  aid  him  in 
making  a  new  book.  He  was  accompanied  by  Mr. 
Duykinck." 

Halleck  he  thus  introduced :  "  On  a  certain  occasion 
I  was  passing  a  Roman  Catholic  church  in  New  York: 
seeing  the  doors  open  and  throngs  of  people  pressing 
in,  I  stepped  inside  to  see  what  I  could  see.  I  had  not 
well  got  inside  when  I  beheld  Fitzgreene  Halleck 
standing  uncovered,  with  reverential  attitude,  among 
the  crowd  of  unshorn  and  unwashed  worshipers.  I 
remained  till  I  saw  him  leave.  In  doing  so  he  made  a 
courteous  bow,  as  is  the  polite  custom  of  the  humblest 
of  these  people  on  taking  their  departure. 

"  On  the  subject  of  compliments  paid  him  for  poeti- 
cal talents,  Mr.  Halleck  once  said  to  me,  'They  are 


64  In  Olde  New  York 

generally  made  by  those  who  are  ignorant  or  who 
have  a  desire  to  please  or  flatter,  or  perhaps  a  com- 
bination of  all.  As  a  general  thing,  they  are  devoid 
of  sincerity,  and  rather  offensive  than  pleasing.  There 
is  no  general  rule  without  its  exception,  however,  and 
in  my  bagful  of  compliments  I  cherish  one  which  comes 
under  that  rule,  and  reflecting  upon  it  affords  me  real 
pleasure  as  it  did  then.  On  a  warm  day  in  summer 
a  young  man  came  into  the  office  with  a  countenance 
glowing  with  ardor,  innocence,  and  honesty,  and  his 
eyes  beaming  with  enthusiasm.  Said  he,  "Is  Mr. 
Halleck  to  be  found  here  ?  "  I  answered  in  the  affirma- 
tive. Continued  he,  with  evidently  increased  emotion, 
" Could  I  see  him .^"  —  "You  see  him  now,"  I  replied. 
He  grasped  me  by  the  hand  with  a  hearty  vigorousness 
that  added  to  my  conviction  of  his  sincerity.  Said  he, 
"  I  am  happy,  most  happy,  in  having  had  the  pleasure 
at  last  of  seeing  one  whose  poems  have  afforded  me  no 
ordinary  gratification  and  delight.  I  have  longed  to 
see  you,  and  I  have  dreamt  that  I  have  seen  you,  but 
now  I  behold  you  with  mine*  own  eyes.  God  bless 
you  for  ever  and  ever!  I  have  come  eleven  hundred 
miles,  from  the  banks  of  the  Miami  in  Ohio,  mainly 
for  that  purpose,  and  I  have  been  compensated  for 
my  pains."' 

"  Mr.  Halleck  told  me  that  he  had  been  solicited  to 
write  a  Hfe  of  his  early  and  beloved  friend  Drake. 
*But,'  said  he,  *I  did  not  well  see  how  I  could  grant 


Some  Old  Booksellers  65 

such  a  request:  I  had  no  lever  for  my  fulcrum.  What 
could  I  say  about  one  who  had  studied  pharmacy, 
dissection,  written  a  few  poems,  and  then  left  the  scene 
of  action  ?  I  had  no  material,  and  a  mere  meaningless 
eulogy  would  have  been  out  of  the  question/ 

"In  personal  appearance  Halleck  was  rather  below 
the  medium  height  and  well  built:  in  walking  he  had 
a  rather  slow  and  shuffling  gait,  as  if  something  afflicted 
his  feet;  a  florid,  bland,  and  pleasant  countenance; 
a  bright  gray  eye;  was  remarkably  pleasant  and  courte- 
ous in  conversation,  and,  as  a  natural  consequence, 
much  beloved  by  all  who  had  the  pleasure  of  his  ac- 
quaintance. But  to  that  brilliancy  in  conversation 
which  some  of  his  admirers  have  been  pleased  to  attrib- 
ute to  him,  in  my  opinion  he  could  lay  no  claim.  His 
library  was  sold  at  auction  in  New  York  on  the  evening 
of  October  12,  1868.  If  the  collection  disposed  of  on 
that  occasion  was  really  his  library  in  full,  it  must  be 
confessed  it  was  a  sorry  affair  and  meager  in  the 
extreme.  In  surveying  the  collection  a  judge  of  the 
value  of  such  property  would  perhaps  pronounce  it 
worth  from  one  hundred  and  twenty-five  to  one  hun- 
dred and  fifty  dollars.  The  books  brought  fabulous 
prices  —  at  least  ten  times  their  value.  The  company 
was  large,  good-humored,  and  just  in  the  frame  of  mind 
to  be  a  little  more  than  liberal,  doubtless  stimulated 
to  be  so  from  a  desire  to  possess  a  relic  of  the  departed 
poet  who  had  added  fame  to  the  hterature  of  his 


66  In  Olde  New  York 

country.  The  following  are  the  names  of  a  few  of 
the  books  and  the  prices  they  brought:  Nicholas 
Nicklehy,  with  the  author's  autograph,  $18;  Bryant's 
Uttle  volume  of  poems  entitled  Thirty  PoemSy  with 
the  author's  autograph,  $11;  Campbell's  Poems,  with 
Halleck's  autograph,  $8.50;  Catalogue  of  the  Straw- 
berry Hill  Collection,  $16;  Barnaby  Rvdge,  presenta- 
tion copy  by  the  author  to  Halleck,  $15;  Coleridge's 
Poems,  with  a  few  notes  by  Halleck,  $10;  Fanny,  a 
poem  by  Mr.  Halleck,  $10.  The  sum-total  realized 
for  his  library  was  twelve  hundred  and  fifty  dollars." 

Aaron  Burr  was  the  subject  of  some  interesting 
reminiscences:  "Shortly  after  I  came  to  New  York, 
Aaron  Burr  was  pointed  out  to  me  as  he  was  slowly 
wending  his  way  up  Broadway,  between  Chambers 
Street  and  the  old  theater,  on  the  City  Hall  side.  I 
frequently  afterward  met  him  in  this  and  other  streets. 
He  was  always  an  object  of  interest,  inasmuch  as  he 
had  become  an  historical  character,  somewhat  notori- 
ously so.  I  will  attempt  to  describe  his  appearance, 
or  rather  how  he  appeared  to  me:  He  was  small,  thin 
and  attenuated  in  form,  perhaps  a  little  over  five  feet 
in  height,  weight  not  much  over  a  hundred  pounds. 
He  walked  with  a  slow,  measured  and  feeble  step, 
stooping  considerably,  occasionally  with  both  hands 
beliind  liis  back.  He  had  a  keen  face  and  deep-set, 
dark  eye,  his  hat  set  deep  on  his  head,  the  back  part 
sunk  down  to  the  collar  of  the  coat  and  the   back 


Some  Old  Booksellers  67 

brim  somewhat  turned  upward.  He  was  dressed  in 
threadbare  black  cloth,  having  the  appearance  of  what 
is  known  as  shabby  genteel.  His  countenance  wore 
a  melancholy  aspect,  and  his  whole  appearance  be- 
tokened one  dejected,  forsaken,  forgotten  or  cast 
aside,  and  conscious  of  his  position.  He  was  invari- 
ably alone  when  I  saw  him,  except  on  a  single  occa- 
sion: that  was  on  the  sidewalk  in  Broadway  fronting 
what  is  now  the  Astor  House,  where  he  was  standing 
talking  very  familiarly  with  a  young  woman  whom 
he  held  by  one  hand.  His  countenance  on  that 
occasion  was  cheerful,  lighted  up  and  bland  —  alto- 
gether different  from  what  it  appeared  to  me  when  I 
saw  him  alone  and  in  conversation  with  liimself. 
Burr  must  have  been  a  very  exact  man  in  his  business- 
affairs.  His  receipt-book  came  into  my  possession. 
I  found  there  receipts  for  a  load  of  wood,  a  carpenter's 
work  for  one  day,  a  pair  of  boots,  milk  for  a  certain 
number  of  weeks,  suit  of  clothes,  besides  numerous 
other  small  transactions  that  but  few  would  think  of 
taking  a  receipt  for.  The  book  was  but  a  sorry, 
cheap  affair,  and  could  not  have  cost  when  new  more 
than  fifty  cents." 

Edwin  Forrest  he  thus  mentioned:  "At  the  time 
when  Forrest  was  earning  his  reputation  on  the  board 
of  the  Bowery  Theatre  I  was  connected  with  that 
institution,  and  of  course  had  an  opportunity  of  seeing 
him  every  night  he  performed.     Mr.  Forrest  appeared 


68  In  Olde  New  York 

to  be  possessed  of  the  perfection  of  physical  form, 
more  especially  conspicuous  when  arrayed  in  some 
pecuhar  costumes  which  tended  to  display  it  to  the 
best  advantage.  He  had  a  stentorian  voice,  and  must 
have  had  lungs  not  less  invulnerable  than  one  of 
Homer's  heroes.  He  had  a  fine  masculine  face  and 
prepossessing  countenance,  much  resembling  many 
of  the  notable  Greeks  and  Romans  whose  portraits 
have  come  down  to  our  time,  and  a  keen  intellectual 
eye.  His  countenance  at  times  assumed  an  air  of 
hauteur  which  doubtless  had  become  a  habit,  either 
from  personating  characters  of  this  stamp  or  from  a 
consciousness  of  his  merited  popularity.  He  left  the 
impression  on  the  beholder  of  one  intoxicated  with 
success  and  the  repletion  of  human  applause.  He 
kept  aloof  from  all  around  him,  and  condescended  to 
no  social  intercourse  with  any  one  on  the  stage,  and 
appeared  to  entertain  a  contempt  for  his  audience. 
.  .  .  He  has  now  lost  that  mercurial,  youthful  appear- 
ance which  was  then  so  conspicuous,  and  wliich  doubt- 
less aided  in  laying  the  foundation  of  his  widespread 
reputation.  He  was  then  straight  as  an  arrow  and 
elastic  as  a  circus-xider,  the  very  beau-ideal  of  physical 
perfection :  now  he  bears  the  marks  of  decay,  or  rather, 
as  is  said  of  grain  just  before  harvest,  he  has  a  ripe 
appearance.  If  he  would  consult  his  renown  he 
would  retire  from  the  stage,  and  never  set  foot  upon 
it  again  " 


Some  Old  Booksellers  69 

The  reminiscences  also  touched  on  Bryant,  Parton, 
Mrs.  Siddons  and  several  eminent  divines  and  jour- 
nalists. Of  the  latter  class  the  fullest  related  to  James 
Gordon  Bennett,  founder  of  the  Heraldy  and  his 
coadjutor,  William  H.  Attree.  "I  remember  enter- 
ing the  subterranean  oflGice  of  Mr.  Bennett  early  in  the 
career  of  the  Herald  and  purchasing  a  single  copy  of 
the  paper,  for  which  I  paid  the  sum  of  one  cent  only. 
On  this  occasion  the  proprietor,  editor,  and  vendor 
was  seated  at  his  desk  busily  engaged  in  writing,  and 
appeared  to  pay  little  or  n9  attention  to  me  as  I  entered. 
On  making  known  my  object  in  coming  in,  he  requested 
me  to  put  my  money  down  on  the  counter  and  help 
myself  to  a  paper:  all  the  time  he  continued  his  writing 
operations.  The  office  was  a  single,  oblong,  under- 
ground room.  Its  furniture  consisted  of  a  counter, 
which  also  served  as  a  desk,  constructed  from  two 
flour-barrels,  perhaps  empty,  standing  apart  from 
each  other  about  four  feet,  with  a  single  plank  cover- 
ing both;  a  chair,  placed  in  the  center,  upon  which 
sat  the  editor  busy  at  his  vocation,  with  an  inkstand 
by  his  right  hand;  on  the  end  nearest  the  door  were 
placed  the  papers  for  sale.  I  attribute  the  success 
of  the  Herald  to  sl  combination  of  circumstances  — 
to  the  peculiar  fitness  of  its  editor  for  his  position,  to 
its  cheapness,  and  its  advertising  patronage,  which 
was  considerable.  In  the  fourth  place,  it  early  secured 
the  assistance  of  William  H.  Attree,  a  man  of  uncom- 


70  In  Olde  New  York 

mon  abilities  as  a  reporter  and  a  concocter  of  pithy 
as  well  as  ludicrous  chapters  greatly  calculated  to 
captivate  many  readers.  In  fact,  this  clever  and 
talented  assistant  in  some  respects  never  had  his  match. 
He  did  not,  as  other  reporters  do,  take  down  in  short- 
hand what  the  speaker  or  reader  said,  but  sat  and 
heard  the  passing  discourse  like  any  other  casual 
spectator:  when  over  he  would  go  home  to  his  room, 
write  out  in  full  all  that  had  been  said  on  the  occasion, 
and  that  entirely  from  memory.  On  a  certain  occa- 
sion I  hinted  to  him  my  increduKty  about  his  ability 
to  report  as  he  had  frequently  informed  me.  To  put 
the  matter  beyond  doubt,  he  requested  me  to  accom- 
pany him  to  Clinton  Hall  to  hear  some  literary  mag- 
nate let  off  his  intellectual  steam.  I  accordingly 
accompanied  him  as  per  arrangement.  We  were 
seated  together  in  the  same  pew.  He  placed  his  hands 
in  his  pockets  and  continued  in  that  position  during 
the  delivery  of  the  discourse,  and  when  it  was  finished 
he  remarked  to  me  that  I  would  not  only  find  the  sub- 
stance of  this  harangue  in  the  Herald  the  next  day, 
but  that  I  would  find  it  word  for  word.  On  the  follow- 
ing morning  I  procured  the  paper,  and  read  the  report 
l^  of  what  I  had  heard  the  previous  evening;  and  I  must 
say  I  was  struck  with  astonishment  at  its  perfect 
accuracy.  Before  Mr.  Attree's  time  reporting  for  the 
press  in  New  York  was  a  mere  outline  or  sketch  of 
what  had  been  said  or  done,  but  he  infused  life  and 


Some  Old  Booksellers  71 

soul  into  his  department  of  journalism.  His  reports 
were  full,  accurate,  graphic;  and,  what  is  more,  he 
frequently  flattered  the  vanity  of  the  speaker  by  mak- 
ing a  much  better  speech  for  him  than  he  possibly 
could  for  himself.  Poor  Attree  died  in  1849,  and  is 
entombed  at  Greenwood." 


CHAPTER  VII 

A  NEW  YORK  CURIOSITY  SHOP 

TT  was  kept  by  a  descendant  of  one  of  the  old  island 
-*•  families,  and  his  stock  was  confined  almost  entirely 
to  relics,  coats  of  arms,  pedigrees,  and  other  souvenirs 
of  the  early  Dutch  families  of  Manhattan.  The  most 
striking  feature  observed  on  entering  was  the  array  of 
tall  eight-day  clocks  extending  around  the  four  sides 
of  the  room,  in  some  places  two  ranks  deep.  The 
cases  were  mostly  of  oak,  beautifully  inlaid,  and 
which  bore  on  the  base  the  coat  of  arms,  and  in  some 
instances  the  name,  of  the  family  for  whom  they  were 
made.  Beekman,  Kouwenhoven,  Leiter,  Van  Wester- 
velt,  Brower,  Van  Hardenburgh,  Weber,  De  Groot, 
Prevoorst,  Schermerhom,  and  Van  Wyck,  were  the 
most  prominent  names  noticed.  There  were  thirty 
of  these  clocks  —  two  of  great  historical  interest.  All 
were  of  heavy  and  elaborate  workmanship,  and,  be- 
sides the  carving  and  inlaid  work  on  the  cases,  were 
prettily  decorated  on  the  arch  above  the  face  with  vines 
and  flowers.  Most  had  eight  astronomical  movements, 
giving,  in  addition  to  the  hour,  minute,  and  second, 
the  day  of  the  month  and  week,  the  phases  of  sun  and 


A  New  York  Curiosity  Shop  73 

moon,  and  the  sign  of  the  zodiac.  Some  also  gave  the 
evening  and  morning  star,  and  nearly  all  had  the 
alarm  movement. 

The  Moll  or  Maule  clock  by  the  door  was  the  most 
valuable  of  all  the  stock,  historically  considered.  On 
the  10th  of  July,  1680,  John  Moll,  a  Swede,  received 
from  the  Indians  of  Delaware  a  deed  for  much  of  the 
land  now  comprising  Delaware  and  Eastern  Pennsyl- 
vania. This  he  subsequently  conveyed  to  WiUiam 
Penn.  From  timber  cut  on  this  tract  he  made,  or  had 
made,  the  case  of  this  old  clock,  now  standing  so 
modestly  in  the  corner,  and  sent  it  to  his  relatives,  the 
Maule  family  in  Holland,  as  a  present  from  the  New 
World  to  the  Old.  They  valued  it  so  highly  that  they 
had  the  family  arms  inlaid  in  the  solid  oak,  and  deco- 
rated it  very  prettily  with  vines,  leaves,  and  birds  of 
plumage;  furthermore,  to  show  its  American  origin, 
they  had  impaled  in  the  arms  the  names  of  the  six 
Indian  chiefs  from  whom  John  Moll  had  made  his 
purchase.  The  shop-keeper  who  goes  every  year  to 
the  cities  of  Holland  and  Germany  to  replenish  his 
stock  chanced  to  catch  sight  of  the  arms  on  the  clock 
as  he  was  mousing  about  a  second-hand  store  in 
Amsterdam  and  purchased  it. 

Another  very  notable  clock  was  that  on  which 
Christopher  Huggins  experimented  in  the  invention 
of  the  pendulum.  Huggins,  as  the  legend  is,  was  an 
ingenious  clock-maker  of  Amsterdam  in    1689,  who 


74  In  Olde  New  York 

gave  so  much  time  to  evolving  his  idea  of  the  pendulum 
that  he  got  into  financial  straits,  and  borrowed  600 
guilders  of  Jacobus  Van  Wyck,  a  wealthy  manufac- 
turer of  clocks  and  watches  in  that  city.  The  inventor, 
however,  was  never  able  to  pay  the  debt,  and  so  turned 
the  clock  over  to  his  creditor.  To  prove  that  this  is 
the  identical  clock  the  owner  points  to  the  letters  "  C. 
H.  to  J.  V.  W.''  engraved  on  the  metal  frame.  The 
mechanism  has  but  one  hand,  and  is  a  quaint  array 
of  wheels  and  chains. 

There  was  much  other  furniture  of  rare  and  curious 
interest  —  carved,  stiff -backed  chairs  with  figured 
cushions,  square  and  half-round  tables,  sideboards, 
secretaries,  all  of  solid  oak,  quaintly  carved  and  richly 
inlaid.  A  wardrobe,  the  largest  piece  of  furniture  in 
the  room,  seven  feet  high  and  as  many  wide,  has  a 
curious  history.  Without  and  within  it  contains  no 
less  than  ten  thousand  pieces  of  inlaid  work,  and  was 
made  by  the  Guild  of  Cabinet  Workers  of  Amsterdam 
and  presented  to  Nicholas  Oppermier,  Burgomaster  of 
that  city  from  1681  to  1684.  A  writing-desk  and  bureau 
combined  was  of  interest  from  having  once  belonged 
to  the  Coxe  family,  who  came  over  with  William  Penn. 
The  family  arms  —  a  sheaf  of  wheat  or,  on  a  green 
field  —  is  inlaid  on  the  Kd.  There  was  an  ancient 
looking-glass,  too,  with  a  carved  frame  and  long  arms 
on  either  side,  furnished  at  their  extremities  with  candle- 
sticks in  order  that  the  glass  might  be  serviceable  by 


A  New  York  Curiosity  Shop  75 

night  as  well  as  by  day.  Two  groups  of  rare  old  china 
on  a  shelf  would  attract  the  attention  of  collectors. 
The  first  group  is  the  identical  teapot,  milk  pitcher, 
and  cup  —  plain,  rather  coarse  ware  —  used  by  the 
first  Napoleon  in  his  campaigns  —  at  least  the  merchant 
who  owns  it  was  so  assured  by  the  old  servant  of 
Joseph  Bonaparte,  King  of  Holland  and  brother  of 
Napoleon,  of  whom  he  bought  them.  The  only 
ornament  is  the  initial  N.  on  a  blue  ground  surrounded 
by  a  coronet.  The  companion  group  which  belonged 
to  Joseph  Bonaparte  is  much  prettier;  the  ware  is 
finer,  more  delicate,  and  the  white  ground  is  relieved 
by  blue  figures. 

There  were  several  notable  portraits  in  the  collection. 
One  of  these  was  a  very  ancient  portrait  of  Calvin, 
picked  up  for  a  trifle  in  an  old  picture  store,  but  which 
the  merchant,  by  comparison  with  several  authentic 
portraits  in  Europe,  had  established  to  be  genuine. 
Another  was  the  only  portrait  in  existence  of  Jan  Jans, 
father  of  the  celebrated  Aneke  Jans,  and  the  last  sur- 
vivor of  the  famous  siege  of  Haarlem.  There  was 
the  picture  too  of  a  modest  round-faced  comely  Quaker 
lady,  in  a  plain  brown  dress,  with  a  white  handkerchief 
thrown  carelessly  over  her  head,  the  wife  of  WilHam 
Penn.  "Penn  was  partly  of  Dutch  extraction,"  the 
merchant  remarked,  referring  to  the  portrait,  "his 
father.  Admiral  Penn,  having  married  a  member  of 
the  old  Dutch  family  of  Callowhill.     Callowhill  Street, 


76  In  Olde  New  York 

in  Philadelphia,  is  named  after  her.'*  There  was  also 
a  portrait  of  De  Groot,  and  a  strong  picture  of  an  old 
nude  man  by  Bameveldt.  The  merchant  showed 
also  the  genealogical  records  of  eighty-six  thousand 
Dutch  and  Belgian  families,  a  part  of  his  business 
being  the  construction  of  family  records. 


CHAPTER  Vin 

THE  OLD   JUMEL  MANSION* 

VISITORS  to  High.  Bridge  — the  pretty  little 
village  which  stands  at  the  northern  limit  of 
Manhattan  Island  —  cannot  have  failed  to  observe 
the  stately,  somewhat  antiquated  mansion  standing 
in  the  midst  of  a  pretty  park  of  some  fifty  acres,  and 
overlooking  city  and  river  and  the  varied  Westchester 
plains.  It  is  the  chief  in  point  of  interest  as  it  is  the 
sole  survivor  of  the  many  historic  houses  that  once 
graced  the  island,  but  is  so  environed  with  city  en- 
croachments and  improvements  that  its  destruction 
seems  likely  to  be  but  a  question  of  time.  Even  now 
the  shrill  whistle  of  the  metropolitan  locomotives  is 
heard  beneath  its  eaves.  Tenth  Avenue  passes  but  a 
block  away,  and  eager  speculators  have  staked  out  city 
lots  at  its  very  gates,  so  hardly  is  it  pressed  by  the 
great  city  in  its  eager  outreaching  for  new  territory. 

Few  persons  who  pass  the  place  know,  perhaps, 
the  many  points  of  historic  and  romantic  interest  that 
it  has:  how  it  occupies  historic  ground,  being  built  on 

1  Written  about  1880.  The  old  mansion  is  now  owned  by  the 
Daughters  of  the  Revolution  and  maintained  as  a  Museum. 


78  In  Olde  New  York 

the  far-famed  Harlem  Heights,  within  a  mile  of  the 
site  of  old  Fort  Washington;  that  it  was  built  for  the 
dower  of  a  lady  of  such  beauty  and  grace  that  she  was 
able  to  win  the  heart  of  the  Father  of  his  Country 
himself;  that  within  its  walls  Washington  estabhshed 
his  headquarters  while  the  mastery  of  the  island  was 
in  dispute  with  the  British,  and  that  thither  Washing- 
ton came  again  in  1790  with  all  his  Cabinet,  on  his 
return  from  a  visit  to  the  battlefield  of  Fort  Washing- 
ton; or  that  afterward,  a  once  famous  Vice-President 
of  the  United  States  was  married  in  its  parlors.  Yet 
these  and  many  other  noteworthy  incidents  in  its  his- 
tory are  quite  within  the  Kne  of  research  of  the  indus- 
trious investigator.  It  will  not  be  time  misspent,  per- 
haps, if  we  devote  an  idle  hour  to  a  more  particular 
narration  of  some  of  these  events  in  its  history. 

In  1756  no  belle  in  New  York  society  was  more 
courted  and  caressed  than  Miss  Mary  Phillipse.  She 
was  the  daughter  of  Frederick  Philhpse,  lord  of  the 
manor  of  Phillipsburg  (now  Yonkers),  and  is  admitted 
to  have  been  one  of  the  most  beautiful  and  charming 
women  of  colonial  times. 

Washington,  during  one  of  his  frequent  visits  to  the 
city,  met  her  at  the  house  of  his  friend  Beverly  Robin- 
son, and  was  so  deeply  smitten  with  her  charms  that, 
if  the  old  traditions  are  correct,  he  became  a  suitor  for 
her  hand. 

A  rival  claimant  for  the  hand  of  Miss  Phillipse  was 


^,..^'^ 


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The  Old  Jumel  Mansion  7& 

Roger  Morris,  a  gallant  captain  in  the  British  army 
then  garrisoning  New  York.  The  reader's  sympa- 
thies are  with  the  young  Virginian  no  doubt,  but  it  was 
remarked  by  the  gossips  of  the  day  that  he  was  a  slow 
wooer,  and  that  the  odds  seemed  in  favor  of  his  more 
ardent  rival,  when,  unfortunately,  the  exigencies  of 
Indian  warfare  called  him  to  the  frontier,  and  he  was 
forced  to  depart,  leaving  the  gallant  captain  in  undis- 
puted possession  of  the  field.  When  he  had  been 
absent  some  months  a  friend  in  New  York  (whether 
in  the  confidence  of  the  lady  or  not  is  not  known) 
wrote  to  him  that  "Morris  was  laying  close  siege  to 
Miss  Phillipse,"  and  that  if  he  had  any  interests  in  that 
quarter  he  could  best  serve  them  by  a  visit  to  the  city 
—  a  bit  of  friendly  advice  which  was  not  accepted, 
possibly  because  the  recipient  was  too  much  occupied 
with  measures  for  the  protection  of  the  frontier,  but 
probably  because  his  chances  of  success  seemed  too 
small  to  warrant  the  venture. 

In  the  meantime,  his  rival  out  of  the  field.  Captain 
Morris,  pressed  his  suit  with  military  ardor,  and  so 
successfully  that  in  1756  the  polite  society  of  the  town 
was  pleasantly  electrified  by  the  news  of  the  betrothal 
of  Captain  Roger  Morris  to  Mary  Phillipse.  The 
match  was  evidently  approved  by  the  lady's  father, 
for  he  proceeded  to  bestow  on  her  as  a  dowry  five 
hundred  acres  of  land  on  Manhattan  Island,  which 
included  the  site  of  the  present  dwelling. 


80  In  Olde  New  York 

The  year  1776  found  the  colonists  in  arms  against 
the  mother  country,  Roger  Morris  a  colonel  in  the 
British  army,  and  George  Washington  commander- 
in-chief  of  the  forces  of  the  colonies.  Mrs.  Morris 
occupied  her  home  until  the  attack  of  the  British  on 
the  city  in  August,  1776,  when,  finding  that  it  was 
likely  to  become  the  theater  of  war,  she  left  it  hastily 
and  found  a  refuge  with  the  Tory  people  among  the 
Highlands.  A  few  days  later  General  Washington 
arrived  and  made  the  house  his  headquarters  dur- 
ing his  operations  on  the  island,  holding  stern  councils 
of  war  in  the  drawing-room  of  the  former  mistress  of 
his  heart,  and  devoting  to  the  repose  of  martial  thews 
and  sinews  the  downy  beds  and  silken  canopies  that 
had  been  intended  for  far  daintier  uses.  But  this 
military  occupation  lasted  only  a  short  time,  although 
the  mistress  of  the  mansion  never  returned  to  her 
charming  retreat.  At  the  close  of  the  war  her  estates 
were  confiscated,  and  she  went  with  her  husband  to 
England,  where  she  lived  to  a  good  old  age. 

Fourteen  years  later,  in  1790,  Washington,  with  a 
goodly  number  of  dames  and  cavaliers,  paid  a  second 
visit  to  the  old  dwelling.  In  his  journal  he  has  given 
us  a  detailed  account  of  the  event.  He  says,  under 
date  of  July  10,  1790: 

"Having  formed  a  party  consisting  of  the  Vice- 
President,  his  lady,  son  and  Miss  Smith;  the  Secre- 
taries of  State,  Treasury  and  War  and  the  ladies  of 


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•S  I. 


The  Old  Jumel  Mansion  81 

the  two  latter,  with  all  the  gentlemen  of  my  family, 
Mrs.  Lear  and  the  two  children,  we  visited  the  old 
position  of  Fort  Washington,  and  afterward  dined  on  a 
dinner  provided  by  Mr.  Mariner,  at  the  house  lately 
Colonel  Roger  Morris's,  but  confiscated  and  now  in 
the  possession  of  a  common  farmer." 

This  Captain  Mariner  was  a  noted  character  in  the 
Revolution,  and  was  engaged  with  Captain  Hyler  in 
the  somewhat  celebrated  "whaleboat  warfare,"  which 
consisted  chiefly  in  making  night  descents  on  the 
enemy's  coasts,  and  making  prisoners  of  such  promi- 
nent persons  as  came  in  their  way.  After  the  war  he 
kept  a  tavern  at  Ward's  Island  and  at  Harlem,  and 
became  a  noted  caterer;  it  was  in  this  capacity  that  he 
was  employed  to  prepare  the  dinner  for  as  imposing 
a  company  of  guests  as  the  mansion  ever  entertained. 

In  1803  Morris's  was  again  in  the  market,  and  for 
a  time  it  seemed  probable  that  Colonel  Aaron  Burr, 
who  was  then  living  in  splendor  at  Richmond  Hill 
would  become  its  purchaser.  In  November  of  this 
year  he  wrote  to  his  daughter  Theodosia  in  regard 
to  the  exchange;  her  letter  in  reply,  dated  Clifton, 
S.  C,  December  10,  1803,  is  interesting  as  showing 
what  one  of  the  most  charming  and  accomplished 
women  of  her  day  thought  of  the  house.     She  says: 

"The  exchange  has  employed  my  thoughts  ever 
since.  Richmond  Hill  will,  for  a  few  years  to  come, 
be  more  valuable  than  Morris's,  and  to  you,  who  are 


82  In  Olde  New  York 

so  fond  of  town,  a  place  so  far  from  it  would  be  use- 
less; so  much  for  my  reasoning  on  one  side;  now  for 
the  other.  Richmond  Hill  has  lost  many  of  its  beauties 
and  is  daily  losing  more.  If  you  mean  it  for  a  resi- 
dence, what  avails  its  intrinsic  value  ?  If  you  sell  part 
you  deprive  it  of  every  beauty  save  the  mere  view. 
Morris's  has  the  most  commanding  view  on  the  island; 
it  is  .reported  to  be  indescribably  beautiful.  The 
grounds,  too,  are  pretty;  how  many  delightful  walks 
can  be  made  on  one  hundred  and  thirty  acres;  how 
much  of  your  taste  displayed !  In  ten  or  twenty  years 
hence  one  hundred  and  thirty  acres  on  New  York 
Island  will  be  a  principality;  and  there  is  to  me  some- 
thing stylish,  elegant,  respectable  and  suitable  to  you 
in  having  a  handsome  country  seat.  So  that,  on  the 
whole,  I  vote  for  Morris's." 

But  Colonel  Burr  did  not  purchase  the  property  at 
this  time,  though  thirty  years  later  he  married  its 
mistress,  and  resided  there  for  some  time,  and  met  a 
class  of  law  students  in  the  room  formerly  occupied 
by  Washington  as  his  sleeping  apartment.  The  later 
history  of  the  mansion  is  both  varied  and  interesting, 
but  is  so  near  our  own  times  that  it  is  scarcely  neces- 
sary to  repeat  it  here. 

An  account  of  a  visit  which  the  writer  made  to  it 
recently,  in  company  with  a  gentleman  familiar  not 
only  with  the  place  but  with  its  history  as  well,  will 
no  doubt   prove   more  acceptable.     The  main    hall. 


The  Old  Jumel  Mansion  83 

which  one  enters  from  the  pillared  porch,  is,  with 
its  ancient  portraits,  its  polished  oaken  ifloor  and 
great  depth  and  roominess,  the  nearest  approach 
we  have,  perhaps,  to  that  of  an  ancient  baronial 
castle.  This  hall  opens  by  folding  doors  into  the 
drawing-room  —  the  same  that  was  used  by  Wash- 
ington as  a  reception-room  during  his  military 
occupancy.  Here  he  received  his  visitors,  Ustened  to 
his  orderlies'  reports  and  dictated  his  answers,  and 
here  at  the  last  was  held  the  council  of  war  which 
decided  that  Manhattan  Island  should  be  relinquished. 
The  floor  of  this  room,  and  indeed  of  every  apartment 
in  the  house,  is  of  oak,  and  so  highly  polished  that  it 
affords  an  insecure  footing  to  one  used  to  carpeted 
rooms.  The  wall  paper  has  a  groundwork  of  green, 
with  raised  figures  of  vine  and  leaf  having  the  appear- 
ance and  texture  of  velvet,  and  its  coloring  is  as  fresh 
and  vivid  as  though  nearly  a  century  and  a  half  had  not 
passed  since  it  left  the  hand  of  the  artisan.  In  this 
room  also  hangs  a  beautiful  chandelier,  which  was 
formerly  the  property  of  the  unfortunate  French 
General  Moreau.  A  winding  stairway  at  the  right  of 
the  hall  leads  the  visitor  to  the  suite  of  apartments 
above,  and  ushers  him  first  into  a  hall  directly  over  the 
one  below,  and  of  about  the  same  dimensions.  From 
this  hall  one  may  step  out  upon  a  balcony  which  com- 
mands a  magnificent  view  of  city,  river,  and  Sound. 
Washington's  bed-chamber  was  on  this  floor,  at  the 


84  In  Olde  New  York 

rear  of  the  hall  and  directly  over  the  drawing-room; 
there  is  nothing  noteworthy  about  it  except  that  it  con- 
tains a  number  of  secret  doors  and  closets  not  all  of 
which  are  known  to  the  present  residents.  Two  small 
ante-chambers,  one  on  each  side,  were  occupied  by 
his  aids,  one  of  whom  was  Alexander  Hamilton.  The 
old  oak  bedstead  on  which  Washington  slept  is  still 
preserved  with  other  treasured  relics  in  the  attic  of  the 
house. 

Having  seen  all  the  objects  of  interest  that  the  old 
house  contained  (although  but  a  very  few  of  them 
are  included  in  this  description)  we  were  invited  to  a  * 
walk  in  the  grounds,  which  are  extensive,  comprising 
about  one  hundred  and  thirty  acres.  Even  here  the 
antiquity  of  the  place  is  apparent.  The  great  locusts 
that  line  the  main  approach  to  the  mansion  are  dead 
at  the  top  and  hoary  with  age.  A  great  Madeira-nut 
tree,  with  gnarled  trunk  and  wide-spreading  branches, 
and  a  huge  cedar  of  Lebanon,  which  was  brought 
a  tiny  rootlet  from  its  native  mountain,  could  have 
been  nourished  to  their  present  proportions  only  by 
a  century  of  sun  and  showers ;  a  hedge  of  slow-growing 
trees  brought  from  Andalusia  in  Spain,  which  surrounds 
an  ancient  fountain's  bed  on  the  estate,  also  gives 
evidence  of  extreme  age.  After  passing  some  time  in 
the  grounds  and  making  pilgrimage  to  several  points 
where  charming  views  may  be  obtained,  we  took  our 
leave,  remarking  on  the  striking  contrast  presented  by 


The  Old  Jumel  Mansion  85 

the  old  dwelling  to  the  great  city  so  near  it,  and  specu- 
lating as  to  how  long  it  can  be  protected  from  the 
grasp  of  the  giant  which  each  day  is  bringing  nearer 
its  gates. 


CHAPTER  IX 


TWO   AMERICAN  SHRINES 


\yl  rE  have  a  habit  of  observing  each  anniversary 
^  '^  of  the  death  of  Washington  Irving  by  a  pil- 
grimage to  Sleepy  Hollow  Cemetery,  his  last  resting- 
place.  It  is  but  an  hour  to  Tarrytown  by  rail  from 
New  York,  and  then  a  walk  of  a  mile  up  the  barrier 
hills  to  the  sunny  "  Hollow, "  the  bridge,  and  the  church- 
yard. The  conservatism  of  wealth  and  of  tradition 
have  united  to  preserve  them  as  they  were.  Through 
the  dell  flows  the  silvery  Pocantico  issuing  out  of  a 
deep  glen  to  the  eastward,  and  passing  on  under  the 
arch  of  the  old  bridge  forever  famous  as  the  scene  of 
Ichabod  Crane's  nocturnal  adventures.  Near  by  is 
the  little  old  Dutch  church  built  of  stone  by  the 
mighty  patroon  of  Phillipburg  half  smothered  in 
vines,  with  wooden  belfry,  and  making  weather 
cock  and  farm  as  uncanny  as  Alloway's  Auld  Haunted 
Kirk.  In  the  shadow  of  its  tower  are  the  quaint, 
brown-stone  tombs  of  the  Van  Warts,  Van  Tassels, 
and  other  famous  families.  The  churchyard  is  as 
beautiful  for  situation  as  it  is  noteworthy  in  letters, 
being  laid  out  on  the  western  and  southern  slope  of 


Two  American  Shrines  87 

the  hill  that  rises  steeply  up  from  the  Pocantico.  At 
intervals  on  the  hillside  rocky  crags  protrude,  veiled 
by  oak  and  hemlock,  and  in  and  out  among  these 
curve  the  walks  and  drives.  The  summit  is  occupied 
by  more  modem  memorials  in  marble  and  granite, 
some  quite  tasteful  and  elaborate  in  design.  West  of 
these,  perhaps  half-way  down  the  declivity,  is  the 
Irving  plot,  characterized  by  a  severe  simplicity;  it  is 
marked  only  by  a  low  hedge  of  evergreens.  Its  ten 
or  twelve  tombstones  are  equally  classic  in  their  sim- 
plicity. That  of  the  author  is  on  the  south  side  of  the 
enclosure,  and  is  a  small,  plain  slab  of  marble,  bearing 
only  his  name,  and  the  date  of  birth  and  death.  This 
severe  simplicity  did  not  seem  to  us  to  be  in  good 
taste;  it  was  so  incommensurate  with  the  greatness  of 
the  man,  and  the  space  he  occupied  in  the  Kterature 
of  his  country,  that  it  seemed  incongruous.  It  is,  how- 
ever, according  to  the  sleeper's  own  request.  The 
tomb  is  distinguished  by  one  mark  of  pubhc  interest, 
indicating  that  more  than  common  dust  sleeps  be- 
neath. Each  of  its  three  faces  has  been  chipped  and 
cut  away  by  relic  hunters,  who  have  carried  away  the 
fragments  as  souvenirs  of  their  pilgrimage. 

We  could  but  contrast  it  with  another  American 
shrine  we  had  visited  a  few  months  previous  ^ —  the 
tomb  of  Cooper  in  Cooperstown,  just  where  the  Susque- 
hanna breakes  from  Otsego,  its  parent  lake.     One  can 

1  This  article  was  written  in  1885. 


88  In  Olde  New  York 

reach  it  from  Richfield  Springs  by  coach  to  the  head 
of  the  lake,  and  thence  by  steamer  down  its  winding 
shores,  or  he  can  drive  over  by  private  vehicle  and  not 
consume  a  summer  day.  The  village  hes  quiet  and 
peaceful  in  its  deep  cleft  among  the  hills  at  the  foot  of 
the  lake.  One  easily  finds  the  grave  of  the  author  in 
the  Kttle  Episcopal  churchyard.  It  is  almost  in  the 
shadow  of  the  sacred  edifice,  brooded  over  by  somber 
firs  and  pines,  with  the  Susquehanna  close  by  mur- 
muring unceasing  requiem!  So  strong  a  churchman 
was  Cooper,  and  attached  to  this  Httle  home  church, 
that  I  doubt  if  he  could  have  rested  quietly  in  stranger 
ground.  The  novelist's  grave  is  nearly  in  the  center 
of  the  plot,  and  that  of  the  wife  is  beside  her  husband's; 
both  are  marked  by  marble  tablets  resting  on  granite 
pillars,  and  are  without  ornament  save  a  simple  cross 
cut  in  the  center  of  the  stone.  I  had  interest  enough 
to  transcribe  the  inscription,  as  follows: 

James  Fenimore  Cooper 

bom  September  15th,  1789, 

died  September  14th,  1851. 

Susan  Augusta,  wife  of  James  Fenimore  Cooper 

and  daughter  of  John  Peter  De  Lancy 

born  January  28,  1792, 

died  January  20. 

There  is  less  popular  appreciation  of  Cooper's  tomb, 
or  is  it  that  it  is  less  accessible  ?  it  bears  no  marks  of 


Two  American  Shrines  89 

the  relic  hunter's  hammer,  and  the  grass  about  it  is 
untrodden  by  pilgrim  feet.  Leaving  the  graves,  we 
strolled  down  the  pleasant  village  street,  in  search  of 
the  old  Cooper  Mansion,  where  the  noveUst  lived 
and  in  which  much  of  his  later  work  was  done,  but 
learned  that  it  had  been  burned  to  the  ground  some 
thirty  years  before  and  its  site  made  a  waste.  Some 
strange  fatality  seems  to  attend  American  houses  with 
a  history.  The  Hancock  house  in  Boston,  the  tavern  of 
Israel  Putnam  in  Brooklyn,  Conn.,  the  Franklin  House 
in  Philadelphia,  Webster's  house  at  Green  Harbor, 
with  scores  of  others  that  might  be  named  have  been 
destroyed  or  so  transformed  that  their  interest  and 
identity  are  lost.  Sunnyside,  the  home  of  Irving, 
almost  alone  remains  intact.  The  pilgrim  to  Sleepy 
Hollow  cannot  better  conclude  his  day  than  by  a  visit 
thither.  Leaving  the  churchyard  one  passes  down  the 
main  street  of  Tarrjrtown,  lined  with  gray-stone  castles 
and  elegant  country-seats,  quaint  Dutch  cottages  and 
modern  villas,  for  two  miles,  and  then  enters  a  road 
turning  from  it  at  right  angles  and  leading  down  to 
the  Hudson.  Soon  one  is  lost  in  a  maze  of  wildwood 
greenery  planted  in  a  little  gorge  worn  by  a  hillside 
stream.  Fine  dwellings,  with  lawn  and  copse  and 
hedge,  rustic  bridges  and  parks  of  forest  trees,  are  on 
either  side,  and  continue  until  one  reaches  a  plateau 
separated  from  the  river  only  by  the  railroad  tracks. 
On  this  plateau,  sheltered  by  fine  old  forest  trees,  stands 


90  In  Olde  New  York 

Sunnyside  cottage.  One  reaKzes  the  feKcity  of  its 
builder's  description  —  "a  quaint  picturesque  little 
pile."  It  is  built  of  stone  in  ancient  Dutch  style,  with 
crow-step  gables  and  an  L,  and  a  multitude  of  nooks, 
crannies,  and  angles.  The  famous  Melrose  Abbey  ivy, 
honeysuckle,  rose  vines  and  eglantines  cover  it  in  wilder- 
ing  mass.  The  main  entrance  is  on  the  south,  but  there 
is  a  piazza  on  the  west  facing  the  river  which,  with  its 
view  of  the  broad  Tappan  Zee,  the  farther  meadows 
of  Tappan,  and  grim  Palisades  on  the  south,  was  the 
favorite  resort  of  the  author  and  his  family  in  the  long 
summer  evenings.  Though  its  clinging  vines  and 
antique  style  convey  the  impression  of  age,  the  cottage 
is  comparatively  modem,  having  been  almost  entirely 
remodeled  in  1835.  The  old  Dutch  farmhouse  which 
it  originally  was,  is  said  to  have  been  the  Wolferts 
Roost,  from  which  the  partisan  armed  with  his  great 
goose  gun  stole  out  for  his  adventure  with  the  ma- 
rauders of  the  Tappan  Zee.  Later  it  came  into  the 
hands  of  the  Van  Tassels,  and  within  its  walls  is  said  to 
have  been  held  the  merry-making  from  which  Ichabod 
Crane  departed  for  his  terrible  encounter  with  the 
Headless  Horseman  on  the  bridge  by  Sleepy  Hollow 
Church. 

Needless  to  add  that  the  old  house  was  the  birth- 
place of  those  charming  tales  and  sketches  which  have 
made  the  locality  classic. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  STORY  OF  THE  PALATINES 

THE    period   of  American   colonization   was   pro- 
ductive of  many  tragedies  and  romantic  incidents, 
few  of  which  have  been  adequately  sketched. 

One  of  the  most  striking  and  least  known  of  these 
was  the  settlement  in  New  York,  in  1709,  by  the  bounty 
of  Queen  Anne  of  England,  of  a  large  body  of  Germans, 
victims  of  religious  persecution.  The  original  home 
of  these  interesting  people  was  in  what  is  known  in 
history  as  the  Lower  Palatinate  of  the  Rhine,  compris- 
ing two  small  states,  which  had  been  united  previous 
to  1620.  It  was  a  beautiful  country  of  vineyards  and 
gardens,  with  a  soft  climate,  under  the  mild  govern- 
ment of  an  herediary  ruler  styled  the  Palatine.  Prior 
to  the  Reformation  its  people  lived  in  the  utmost 
plenty  and  content.  But  their  ruler  early  espoused 
the  cause  of  Luther,  and,  in  the  fierce  reHgious  wars 
that  followed,  the  Palatinate  was  in  many  instances 
the  battle-ground  of  the  contending  parties.  Yet  the 
people  recovered  quickly  from  every  blow,  and  still 
clung  to  their  land  and  faith.  At  length,  in  1689,  the 
armies  of  Louis  XIV  of  France  marched  into  the 


92  In  Olde  New  York 

country  and  ravaged  it  utterly,  the  pretext  being  that 
it  was  used  as  a  haven  of  refuge  for  the  king's  Huguenot 
subjects,  whom  he  was  then  engaged  in  extirpating. 
Everything  was  utterly  destroyed  except  the  bare  soil, 
—  churches,  houses,  public  buildings,  cattle,  fair  fields, 
pleasant  vineyards.  In  that  time  of  terror  the  Elector 
from  his  castle  at  Mannheim  beheld  two  cities  and 
twenty-five  towns  in  flames.  Lust  and  cruelty  were 
satiated.  The  people  pleading  for  mercy  on  bended 
knees  were  thrust  forth  into  the  fields.  Three  thou- 
sand one  hundred  and  fifty  square  miles  of  territory 
were  left  a  blackened  waste,  and  the  wretched  in- 
habitants driven  into  exile.  Wandering  homeless  and 
friendless  through  Europe  for  several  years,  the  thoughts 
of  the  more  intelligent  among  them  turned  at  length 
to  England  as  a  possible  haven.  Good  Queen  Anne 
had  succeeded  to  the  English  throne :  ties  of  blood  con- 
nected her  with  the  hapless  Count  Palatine,  she  being 
a  cousin  of  the  first  degree :  besides,  she  was  known  to 
sympathize  deeply  with  the  persecuted  Protestants  of 
Europe,  of  every  nationality.  And  so  it  happened 
that  in  the  spring  of  1708  a  little  band  of  Palatine 
exiles  landed  at  Whitehall  and  filed  through  the  Lon- 
don streets  in  search  of  friends  among  their  co-religion- 
ists. There  were  forty-one  of  them,  —  men,  women, 
and  children,  —  natives  of  Neuberg  on  the  Rhine,  and 
all  bore  certificates  of  good  character  and  that  they 
had  been  stripped  of  everything  by  the  army  of  France, 


The  Story  of  the  Palatines  93 

signed  by  the  baiUffs  of  their  native  town.  Their 
leader  was  a  grave,  thoughtful  man  of  mature  years,  — 
their  pastor,  Joshua  Kockerthal,  "Evangelical  minis- 
ter," as  he  is  called  in  the  Lords  of  Trade  Documents, 
—  a  Great-heart  who  had  led  the  little  band  in  all 
their  wanderings  and  had  now  safely  conducted  them 
to  England.  Pastor  Kockerthal  lost  no  time  in  pre- 
senting to  Queen  Anne  a  petition,  in  which  he  asked 
to  be  sent  with  his  own  company,  and  others  of  his 
countrymen  that  might  follow,  to  her  majesty's  colonies 
in  America. 

Never  did  petition  receive  from  authority  a  more 
favorable  hearing.  Queen  Anne's  womanly  heart  was 
moved  to  pity  by  the  woes  of  the  exiles.  To  her 
ministers  the  petition  seemed  to  open  the  way  to  a 
master-stroke  of  policy  in  the  settlement  of  the  colonies. 
The  aggressions  of  the  French  in  Canada  were  then 
beginning  to  be  felt  along  the  whole  northern  frontiers 
of  New  England  and  New  York,  and  the  planting  of  a 
large  body  of  Germans,  natural  enemies  of  France, 
on  the  frontier  was  a  policy  to  be  pursued  with  spirit. 
They  heartily  seconded,  therefore,  the  queen's  design 
of  sending  the  petitioners  to  her  colony  of  New  York. 
The  queen  defrayed  the  cost  of  their  transit,  it  is  said, 
from  her  own  private  purse.  Sending  for  Pastor 
Kockerthal,  she  questioned  him  concerning  his  history 
and  that  of  his  people,  promised  him  free  transporta- 
tion with  his  company  to  their  new  homes,  and  agreed 


94  In  Olde  New  York 

further  to  furnish  them  with  seed,  agricultural  tools, 
and  furniture,  lands  free  of  tax  and  quit-rent,  and  to 
support  them  for  one  year,  or  until  their  first  harvest 
could  be  reaped.  To  Pastor  Kockerthal  Queen  Anne 
was  even  more  generous,  granting  him  five  hundred 
acres  as  a  glebe  for  the  support  of  his  wife  and  children 
besides  a  douceur  of  twenty  pounds  for  the  purchase 
of  books  and  clothing.  The  males  were  also  nat- 
uralized by  the  Crown  before  leaving.  The  ship 
Lyon  was  got  ready,  and  sailed  eariy  in  August,  1708, 
in  company  with  Lord  Lovelace,  who  had  been  ap- 
pointed governor  of  New  York.  There  were  fifty-two 
Palatines  on  board,  —  one  a  babe  of  two  weeks,  and 
several  others  of  tender  age. 

The  majority  of  the  adults  were  vinedressers  and 
husbandmen;  but  there  were  also  a  smith,  a  carpenter, 
a  weaver,  and  a  stocking-maker  among  them.  Few 
particulars  of  the  voyage  have  been  preserved.  They 
had  a  long  and  stormy  passage  of  more  than  four 
months,  reaching  New  York  late  in  December,  1708. 
Several  of  the  passengers  had  died  on  the  voyage, 
neariy  all  were  sick,  and  the  whole  company  was 
quarantined  for  some  weeks  on  Staten  Island  before 
being  admitted  to  the  city.  As  soon  as  possible,  Lord 
Lovelace  set  about  selecting  a  site  for  their  settlement. 
On  the  west  bank  of  the  Hudson,  just  above  the  High- 
lands, familiar  now  to  travelers  as  the  site  of  the  city 
of  Newburgh,  there  was  a  tract  of  country  that  in  soil 


The  Story  of  the  Palatines  95 

and  natural  scenery  was  thought  as  near  an  approach 
to  that  of  the  Rhine  as  could  be  found  in  the  New 
World ;  and  here  the  Httle  band  of  storm-tossed  voyagers 
was  established. 

The  tract  granted  them  comprised  two  thousand 
one  hundred  and  ninety  acres,  and  was  laid  out  in  nine 
lots  leading  back  from  the  river,  including  a  glebe  of 
five  hundred  acres  for  the  minister.  Here  the  wan- 
derers made  a  clearing,  erected  houses,  built  roads  and 
bridges,  and,  in  due  time,  added  a  church  and  school- 
house,  which  Queen  Anne  furnished  with  a  bell,^  and 
thus  laid  the  foundations  of  an  enterprising  and  flourish- 
ing town. 

Pastor  Kockerthal  remained  only  long  enough  to 
establish  his  flock  in  their  fold.  The  country  pleased 
him.     The  government  had  fulfilled  its  promises  to 

1  This  bell  is  still  preserved  in  the  city  of  Newburgh  as  a  precious 
relic.  It  is  a  small  bell,  of  about  twenty-five  pounds'  weight,  very 
sweet  in  tone,  and  bears  the  inscription  "Una  fecit  Amsterdammi, 
17 — ."  Its  vicissitudes  have  been  many.  When  first  given  to  the 
Palatines,  their  church  was  not  ready,  and  it  was  loaned  for  a  season 
to  the  Lutheran  church  in  New  York.  On  the  abdication  of  their 
grant  by  the  Palatines,  it  became  the  property  of  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land, which  succeeded  to  the  glebe,  and  on  the  outbreak  of  the 
Revolution  was  buried  in  a  swamp  to  prevent  its  falling  into  the 
hands  of  the  Whigs.  Later  it  called  the  village  children  to  school 
and  then,  in  a  few  years  superseded  in  this  high  ofl5ce  by  a  new  bell, 
it  was  hung  in  the  stables  of  the  village  hotel  to  give  the  hour  to  the 
workmen.  When  the  writer  first  saw  it,  in  the  spring  of  1882,  it 
hung  in  a  grocery-store;  and  he  understands  that  it  has  since  beea 
removed  to  the  Washington  Head  quarters  for  preservation. 


96  In  Olde  New  York 

the  letter,  and  he  felt  that  he  could  not  remain  at  ease 
until  his  bruised  and  smitten  countrymen  in  Germany 
had  been  brought  to  this  land  of  plenty  and  liberty. 
In  a  few  months  he  embarked,  again  made  the  tem- 
pestuous voyage,  appeared  before  the  queen,  and, 
having  gained  her  countenance  for  his  project,  set  out 
for  Germany  to  collect  his  co-religionists  and  lead 
them,  a  second  Joshua,  to  the  promised  land.  By  the 
fall  of  1709  he  had  assembled  three  thousand  exiles 
at  different  points  on  the  Rhine,  eager  for  the  enter- 
prise, and  late  in  the  year  they  came  to  England, 
touching  on  the  way  at  Leyden. 

The  English  government  had  encouraged  Pastor 
Kockerthal's  mission,  if  it  had  not  directly  authorized 
it:  still,  with  a  lynx-eyed  opposition  scanning  its  every 
move,  it  hesitated  at  incurring  the  expense  of  trans- 
porting this  large  body  of  emigrants  to  America  and 
subsisting  them  there  for  a  twelvemonth,  as  it  had 
done  their  predecessors.  There  happened  to  be  in 
London  at  this  juncture  a  gentleman  —  Colonel 
Robert  Hunter  —  who,  having  been  recently  appointed 
governor  of  New  York,  took  a  great  interest  in  the 
affairs  of  the  province,  and  who  suggested  a  plan  for 
reheving  the  ministry  of  its  difficulty.  This  plan  was 
to  employ  the  Palatines  after  their  arrival  in  the  pro- 
duction of  naval  stores  until  the  expenses  of  their 
transit  had  been  fully  met.  In  1698  a  commission  had 
been  appointed  to  inquire  into  the  capacity  of  the 


The  Story  of  the  Palatines  97 

American  colonies  for  the  production  of  naval  stores, 
and  to  survey  the  woods  and  forests  for  masts,  oak 
timber,  pitch-pine,  and  land  suitable  for  the  produc- 
tion of  hemp,  the  sanguine  ministers  evidently  believ- 
ing that  American  oak  in  English  shipyards  was  some- 
thing to  be  desired.  A  bounty  had  also  been  offered 
for  every  barrel  of  tar  or  turpentine  imported  from 
America.  Colonel  Hunter's  reasonings  on  the  sub- 
ject, as  subsequently  adopted  and  reported  by  the 
Lords  of  Trade  to  the  queen,  were  novel  and  inter- 
esting. "Your  majesty,"  it  was  argued,  "imports 
four  thousand  seven  hundred  barrels  of  tar  yearly 
from  the  Baltic  States.  It  has  been  found  in  America 
that  one  man  can  make  six  tons  of  stores  per  year; 
and  several  working  together  could  make  double  that 
in  proportion.  We  suppose  that  six  hundred  men 
employed  in  it  will  produce  seven  thousand  tons  a 
year,  which,  if  more  than  your  majesty  needs,  could  be 
profitably  employed  in  trade  with  Spain  and  Portugal." 
The  cost  of  production  was  estimated  at  five  pounds 
a  ton,  and  that  of  transportation  at  four  pounds,  at 
which  figures  it  could  be  sold  as  low  as  Norway  tar; 
and  calculations  were  made  to  show  how  easy  it  would 
be  in  this  way  for  the  Palatines  to  refund  the  money 
advanced  them,  while  at  the  same  time  they  could  be 
making  their  homes  in  the  wilderness.  The  recom- 
mendations of  the  Lords  of  Trade  were  adopted. 
The  Palatines  signed  a  contract  agreeing  to  settle 


98  In  Olde  New  York 

on  such  lands  as  should  be  allotted  them,  not  to  leave 
them  without  the  governor's  permission,  not  to  en- 
gage in  woolen-manufacture,  and  to  suffer  the  naval 
stores  produced  to  be  devoted  to  the  payment  of  the 
money  advanced.  The  queen,  on  her  part,  agreed 
to  transport  them  to  New  York,  to  subsist  them  for 
one  year  after  their  arrival,  to  furnish  them  with  seed 
and  implements,  and  to  grant  them,  as  soon  as  the 
debt  was  paid,  forty  acres  of  land  each,  to  be  free  of 
tax  or  quit-rent  for  seven  years.  There  was  at  this 
time  in  the  beautiful  Mohawk  Valley,  on  the  site  of 
the  present  towns  of  Herkimer  and  German  Flats, 
a  tract  of  ungranted  land  to  which  the  Indians  held 
a  quasi  claim,  although  it  was  not  occupied  by  them; 
and  this  was  selected  as  the  site  of  the  Palatine  settle- 
ment. 

To  Colonel  Hunter  was  assigned  the  duty  of  plant- 
ing the  exiles  in  their  new  home.  The  instructions 
given  to  this  gentleman  show  that  much  machinery 
was  set  in  motion  by  the  enterprise.  Mr.  Bridger,  her 
majesty's  Surveyor-General  of  America,  was  ordered 
down  from  New  England  to  instruct  the  people  in  the 
art  of  making  tar.  Overseers  were  appointed  to  keep 
them  at  work,  at  a  salary  of  one  hundred  pounds  per 
annum,  a  commissary  to  receive  the  stores,  at  two 
hundred  pounds  for  himself  and  clerk,  and  a  factor 
in  England  to  place  the  stores  on  the  market  there, 
at  the  usual  rate  of  commission.     Ten  vessels  were 


The  Story  of  the  Palatines  99 

got  ready  to  transport  the  colony.  They  rendezvoused 
at  Plymouth,  the  point  of  departure  of  so  many  pilgrim 
companies,  and  here,  early  in  the  spring  of  1710,  the 
company  embarked.  The  scene  must  have  been  one 
of  unusual  and  pathetic  interest,  though  no  account 
of  it  has  come  down  to  us.  The  voyage  was  to  be  the 
complement  of  twenty  years'  wanderings,  and  its  end 
rest,  competency,  home.  So  large  an  hegira  had  never 
been  known  before,  at  least  in  modem  times,  and  was 
not  subsequently  equaled.  Three  thousand  people, 
—  men,  women,  children,  babes  in  arms,  —  repre- 
senting nearly  all  crafts,  professions,  and  conditions, 
gathered  on  the  pier,  all  placed  on  a  level  by  one  hard 
condition,  —  biting  poverty.  There  were  hand-shak- 
ings and  mutual  farewells,  then  the  heave-ho  of  the 
sailors,  the  filling  of  sails,  and  the  fleet  moved  slowly 
out  of  the  harbor.  Tradition  says  that  an  event  of 
evil  moment  attended  the  departure:  a  boat  passing 
from  one  ship  to  another  Was  capsized  and  all  its  pas- 
sengers drowned;  and  almost  before  the  land  had  sunk 
from  view  a  storm  arose  and  scattered  the  fleet,  one 
vessel  —  the  Berkeley  Castle  —  being  so  disabled  that 
she  was  obliged  to  put  into  Portsmouth  for  repairs, 
and  reached  New  York  several  days  behind  the  other 
vessels.  The  voyage  was  long  and  disastrous.  Crowded 
into  small  vessels,  supplied  probably  with  insufficient 
food,  tossed  by  the  sea,  and  worn  out  by  their  pre- 
vious sufferings,  sickness  broke  out  among  the  poor 


100  In  Olde  New  York 

people,  and  death  reaped  a  fearful  harvest.  Almost 
the  only  details  of  the  passage  are  given  in  two  letters 
from  Governor  Hunter  to  the  Lords  of  Trade,  dated 
at  New  York,  —  the  first,  June  16,  1710,  in  which  he 
says  that  he  had  arrived  there  two  days  before,  and 
adds,  "  We  want  three  of  the  Palatine  ships,  and  those 
arrived  are  in  a  desperately  sickly  condition."  He 
writes  again  July  24,  "  The  Palatine  ships  are  all  safe, 
except  the  Herbert  frigate,  with  tents  and  arms,  cast 
away  on  the  east  end  of  Long  Island,  July  7.  The 
men  are  safe,  the  goods  damaged.  The  Berkeley 
Castle,  left  at  Portsmouth,  not  in.  The  poor  people 
have  been  mighty  sickly,  but  recover  apace.  We  have 
lost  about  four  hundred  and  seventy  of  our  number." 
Four  hundred  and  seventy  out  of  a  total  of  three 
thousand ! 

The  exiles  once  landed,  Mr.  Bridger  was  sent  off 
to  the  Mohawk  lands  to  see  if  they  were  suited  for  the 
purpose  in  view,  and  returned  in  due  time  with  an  un- 
favorable report.  The  lands  were  undoubtedly  good, 
he  admitted,  but  the  entire  absence  of  pines  precluded 
the  idea  of  using  them  for  the  production  of  naval 
stores;  and  even  if  pines  were  to  be  had,  their  remote- 
ness from  market  was  an  insuperable  objection :  besides, 
if  the  people  were  settled  on  these  extreme  frontiers 
they  could  not  be  protected  from  the  inroads  of  the 
French  and  Indians,  —  as  if  the  government  had  not 
designed  planting  them  there  as  a  check  to  those  in- 


The  Story  of  the  Palatines  101 

roads.  To  get  a  correct  idea  of  the  animus  of  this 
report,  we  must  glance  briefly  at  the  state  of  the  colony 
of  New  York.  After  the  conquest  of  India,  it  came  to 
be  regarded  as  an  asylum  for  bankrupt  pohticians  and 
impecunious  younger  sons  of  the  English  nobiHty, 
who  went  out  poor,  and  in  a  few  years,  by  the  simple 
process  of  peculation  in  oflSce,  returned  rich.  New 
York  at  this  time  sustained  much  such  a  relation  to 
the  mother  country,  though  of  course  in  lesser  degree. 
Pirates  and  smugglers  in  the  ports,  land-grabbers,  tax- 
collectors,  and  commissaries  in  the  interior,  offered 
rare  opportunities  to  officials  with  itching  palms. 
Most  of  the  land  then  taken  up  was  held  in  great 
estates  by  certain  patroons  and  lords  of  manors,  who 
held  the  rights  of  the  commonalty  in  utter  contempt. 
These  men  had  great  influence  with  the  colonial  govern- 
ment. There  was  what  would  be  called  now  a  "  ring " 
at  Albany,  that  had  already  cast  covetous  eyes  on  the 
beautiful  Mohawk  Valley  and  were  not  willing  that  it 
should  be  given  to  a  band  of  needy  German  emigrants. 
While  Mr.  Bridger  was  making  his  survey.  Gover- 
nor Hunter  had  been  approached  on  the  subject  by 
one  of  these  gentlemen,  Robert  Livingston.  Mr. 
Livingston  was  a  native  of  Scotland,  a  man  of  ability 
and  great  force  of  character,  who,  in  several  offices 
had  done  the  colony  good  service,  but  who  was  tainted 
with  the  leprosy  of  covetousness.  By  means  of  these 
offices  and  his  interest  with  the  royal  governors  he  had 


102  In  Olde  New  York 

become  very  wealthy,  and  was  now  the  owner  of  a 
manor  of  one  hundred  and  sixty  thousand  acres.  His 
manor-house  stood  some  six  miles  back  from  the 
Hudson,  on  a  knoll  overlooking  one  of  the  intervales 
of  the  river,  and  has  been  described  as  "a  long,  low, 
rambUng  dwelling  of  stone,  with  heavy  roofs,  stout 
oaken  doors,  and  windows  so  deeply  set  in  the  walls 
that  they  looked  Uke  embrasures."  Within  it  was  fur- 
nished with  some  approach  to  European  elegance. 
Over  his  wide  domain  Livingston  ruled  as  an  autocrat. 
He  had  been  endowed  with  all  the  rights  enjoyed  by 
English  lords  of  the  manor,  had  many  retainers  in  his 
hall,  many  horses  in  his  stalls,  and  the  command  of  a 
mihtia  company  formed  of  his  followers,  all  of  which 
combined  with  his  free  hospitality  to  make  him  popular 
at  home  and  potent  in  affairs  of  state. 

Mr.  Livingston  advanced  the  objections  to  the 
Mohawk  lands  which  have  been  stated,  and  proposed 
instead  a  tract  of  six  thousand  acres  on  his  own  manor, 
heavily  timbered,  contiguous  to  the  river,  and  in  every 
way  suited  to  the  object.  He  would  dispose  of  it  for 
such  a  purpose  at  a  sacrifice,  —  four  hundred  pounds 
sterling.  Without  entering  into  details,  we  may  say 
that  the  offer  was  accepted.  In  October,  1710,  the 
poor  Palatines,  robbed  of  the  Canaan  which  had  been 
promised  them,  were  planted  in  the  gloomy  pine 
forest  on  the  Livingston  estate.  Some  refused  the 
hard  conditions  and  remained  in  New  York,  founding 


The  Story  of  the  Palatines  103 

there  the  first  Lutheran  church  in  this  country;  others 
joined  their  countrymen  in  Pennsylvania.  Those  that 
went  were  settled  in  five  villages,  or  "dorfs,"  —  three 
on  the  east  bank,  known  as  the  East  Camp,  and  two 
on  the  west  bank,  directly  opposite,  on  a  tract  of  un- 
granted  land,  called  West  Camp.  Two  thousand  two 
hundred  and  twenty-seven  Palatines  were  settled  here, 
the  remainder  having  died  or  been  left  at  New  York 
and  other  points. 

Queen  Anne,  it  will  be  remembered,  had  agreed  to 
maintain  the  colonists  for  a  year  after  their  arrival. 
The  stated  daily  stipend  had  been  fixed  at  sixpence 
for  adults  and  fourpence  for  children  before  leaving 
England.  The  contract  for  supplying  them  was  given 
to  Livingston.  The  rations  furnished,  according  to 
the  terms  of  his  contract,  which  is  still  in  existence, 
were  a  third  of  a  loaf  of  bread  a  day,  the  loaves  of  such 
size  and  sort  as  were  sold  in  New  York  for  fourpence 
halfpenny,  and  a  quart  of  beer  from  his  brew-house. 
The  first  act  of  the  settlers  was  to  build  rude  log  houses 
for  shelter;  their  next,  to  clear  the  ground.  The  homes 
so  long  and  ardently  looked  forward  to  were  at  last 
theirs.  How  depressingly  must  they  have  compared 
with  the  homes  they  had  left!  Instead  of  the  smiling 
fields  and  vineyards  of  the  Fatherland,  a  gloomy  pine 
forest,  extending  far  as  the  eye  could  reach;  instead 
of  the  Rhine,  a  sullen,  forest-fringed  river;  in  place  of 
busy  city  and  romantically-perched  castle,  the  log  hut 


104  In  Olde  New  York 

of  the  settler  and  the  wigwam  of  the  savage.  Quite 
different,  too,  from  what  they  had  been  accustomed  to 
were  the  duties  that  awaited  them  here.  Instead  of 
the  reaping  and  sowing,  dressing  of  the  vine  and 
treading  of  the  purple  vintage,  the  hard,  thankless 
task  of  the  pioneer,  —  forests  to  hew,  houses  to  build, 
lands  to  clear,  roads  to  open,  a  dock  to  construct; 
and  to  these  was  added  the  drudgery  of  a  distasteful 
occupation.  The  first  winter  they  were  employed  in 
building  houses  and  making  clearings.  In  the  spring, 
under  harsh  taskmasters,  they  began  discharging  their 
obligations  to  the  queen,  and  continued  it,  many  of 
them,  for  twelve  long  years  of  servitude. 

Their  first  act  was  to  prepare  the  trees  for  tar- 
making.  In  the  spring,  when  the  sap  was  up,  they 
barked  the  north  side  of  the  tree;  in  the  fall,  before 
the  sap  was  down,  the  south  side;  in  the  succeeding 
spring,  the  east  side,  and  in  the  fall  again,  the  west  side, 
—  the  object  being  to  retain  the  sap  in  the  wood. 
Two  years  were  required  by  this  process  to  prepare 
the  tree.  Then,  when  it  was  fully  dead,  it  was  cut 
into  convenient  lengths,  and  the  tar  extracted  from  it 
by  slow  combustion  in  a  rude  kiln.  Turpentine  was 
extracted  by  bleeding  the  trees,  as  is  now  practised. 
So  earnest  were  the  overseers  that  the  boys  and  girls 
were  set  to  gathering  pine  knots,  from  which  alone, 
Governor  Hunter  reported,  sixty  barrels  of  tar  were 
made  during  the  first  season. 


The  Story  of  the  Palatines  105 

It  was  not  long  before  the  poor  Palatines  discovered 
that  they  had  sold  themselves  into  a  virtual  slavery. 
The  clause  in  their  contract  which  granted  them  their 
lands  only  when  they  should  have  repaid  the  cost  of 
their  transportation  was  fatal  to  their  liberty;  for  it 
soon  became  apparent  that  naval  stores  could  not  be 
produced  on  the  Hudson  so  cheaply  and  of  such 
quality  as  the  British  ministry  had  predicted,  that 
when  sold  in  open  market  they  could  not  com- 
pete with  the  Swedish  article,  and  that  after  the 
salaries  of  instructors,  commissaries,  overseers,  agents, 
and  clerks  were  paid,  very  little  was  left  to  the 
credit  of  the  Palatines.  The  prospect  of  discharg- 
ing their  debt  by  these  means  in  that  century 
seemed  hopeless.  The  condition  of  the  emigrants 
soon  became  pitiable:  they  were  looked  upon  as 
paupers  subsisting  on  the  bounty  of  government,  and 
treated  accordingly.  The  neighboring  white  settlers 
regarded  them  as  interlopers,  and  had  Httle  inter- 
course with  them,  and  then  only  to  fan  their  discon- 
tent. Nearly  all  the  oflScials  made  a  spoil  of  them; 
but  none  aroused  so  many  bitter  complaints  as  did  the 
chief  commissary,  Robert  Livingston.  It  was  alleged 
that  the  bread  he  furnished  them  was  moldy  and 
lacked  the  stipulated  weight,  and  that  the  beer  was  so 
bad  as  to  be  undrinkable;  furthermore,  that  by  his 
interest  with  the  overseers  they  were  oftener  employed 
in  clearing  the  manor  lands  than  on  their  own  reser- 


106  In  Olde  New  York 

vation.*  More  than  once  these  complaints  became  so 
bitter  that  Governor  Hunter  came  in  person  to  in- 
vestigate them.  He  was  accompained  by  his  staff, 
and  was  received  with  every  mark  of  consideration 
and  respect  at  the  manor-house.  Samples  of  the 
bread  and  beer  furnished  were  shown  him;  he  heard 
the  statements  of  the  contractor;  and  the  conclusion 
of  the  matter  was  a  speech  to  the  disaffected,  in  which 
he  recounted  the  goodness  of  the  queen  and  upbraided 
them  for  a  set  of  sturdy  rogues  who  were  making  but 
a  poor  return  for  the  favors  shown  them. 

They  had,  however,  other  grounds  of  complaint. 
Sickness  was  rife  among  them,  and  they  were  without 
medicines  or  physicians.     Their  children  were  bound 

1 A  caustic  letter  from  the  Earl  of  Clarendon  to  Lord  Dartmouth, 
Secretary  of  State,  gives  color  to  these  charges.  He  says:  "I  think 
it  unhappy  that  Colonel  Hunter  at  his  first  arrival  in  his  government 
has  fallen  into  such  ill  hands,  for  this  Livingston  has  been  known 
many  years  in  that  province  for  a  very  ill  man.  He  formerly  vict- 
ualled the  forces  at  Albany,  in  which  he  was  guilty  of  most  notorious 
frauds  by  which  he  greatly  improved  his  estate.  He  has  a  mill  and 
brew-house  upon  his  land,  and  if  he  can  get  the  victualling  of  the 
Palatines,  who  are  so  conveniently  posted  for  his  purpose,  he  will  make 
a  good  addition  to  his  estate.  ...  I  am  of  opinion,  if  subsistence 
be  all,  the  conclusion  will  be  that  Livingston  and  some  others  will 
get  large  estates,  the  Palatines  will  be  none  the  richer,  but  will  be 
confirmed  in  that  laziness  they  are  already  prone  to."  The  earl, 
however,  was  opposed  to  the  emigration  of  the  Palatines.  It  is  just 
to  Livingston  to  say  that  a  commissioner  appointed  to  inquire  Into 
his  accounts  while  quartermaster  exonerated  him  from  chaises 
of  fraud. 


The  Story  of  the  Palatines  107 

out  without  their  consent,  and,  under  colonial  law, 
became  the  property  of  their  masters  as  absolutely 
as  the  cattle  in  their  stalls.  In  1711,  in  the  war  against 
Canada,  a  requisition  for  soldiers  had  been  served 
upon  them,  and  three  hundred  of  their  best  men  had 
accompanied  Colonel  Nicholson  in  the  campaign 
against  Montreal,  —  not  all  of  whom  returned.  Their 
chief  grievance,  however,  lay  in  the  fact  that  the  beauti- 
ful country  which  had  been  promised  them,  and  which 
was  to  furnish  homes  for  themselves  and  their  children, 
was  withheld,  —  that  by  a  clause  in  the  contract  which 
they  had  misunderstood  they  were  held  in  bondage. 
There  was  much  discontent  among  them  on  these 
grounds  during  the  first  winter,  not  allayed  when 
some  bold  spirits  who  had  penetrated  the  wilderness 
to  the  promised  land  returned  with  glowing  accounts 
of  its  beauty  and  fertility. 

Good  Pastor  Kockerthal  spent  most  of  his  time 
with  his  afflicted  brethren,  leaving  the  little  flock  at 
Newburgh  to  the  care  of  local  elders.  He  attended 
the  sick,  and  knelt  at  the  bedside  of  the  dying  with 
prayers  and  words  of  consolation.  He  counseled 
patience  and  moderation,  cheered  them  with  the 
hymns  of  the  Fatherland,  and  was  until  death  the 
guide  and  comforter  of  the  people.^ 

1  This  unsung  apostle  died  in  1719,  and  was  buried  in  the  midst 
of  the  people  he  had  loved  so  well.  His  grave  is  still  to  be  seen  in 
West  Camp,  in  the  present  town  of  Saugerties,  —  a  sort  of  vault 


108  In  Olde  New  York 

The  pastor  was  powerless  to  allay  all  feeling  of  dis- 
content, however,  and  in  May,  1711,  Governor  Hunter 
was  hastily  summoned  to  the  manor  to  quell  a  mutiny 
which  had  broken  out  among  the  Palatines.  They 
had  risen  against  their  overseers,  he  was  told,  declaring 
that  they  would  go  to  the  lands  at  Schoharie  which 
the  queen  had  given  them.  Hunter,  with  sixty  soldiers 
whom  he  had  ordered  down  from  the  garrison  at 
Albany,  marched  into  the  midst  of  the  villages  and 
summoned  the  chiefs  to  an  account.  They  stated 
their  grievances,  which  have  been  enumerated. 

The  governor,  in  reply,  reminded  them  of  their 
solemn  contract,  and  of  their  obligations  to  the  queen, 
assured    them    that    the    Scoharie    country  was   still 

in  a  field  near  the  Hudson,  covered  with  a  large  flat  stone,  on  which 

is  inscribed,  in  German,  this  mystical  epitaph: 

Wise  Wanderer 

Under  this  stone  rests  near  his 

Sybilla  Charlotte 

A  True  Wanderer 

The  Joshua 

of  the  High  Dutch  in  North  America  and  the 

same  in  the  East  and  West 

Hudson's  River 

Poor  Lutheran  Preacher 

His  first  arrival  was  with  Lord  Lovelace  1707-8 

January  the  1st 

His  second  was  with  Col.  Hunter  1710 

June  the  14th 

His  voyage  to  England  brought  forth  his  heavenly 

voyage  on  St.  John's  Day  1719. 


The  Story  of  the  Palatines  109 

occupied  by  Indians,  and  that  if  they  were  settled 
there  they  could  not  be  protected  from  the  French. 
They  still  continued  rebellious,  however,  and  he  ended 
the  matter  summarily  by  disarming  them  and  putting 
them  under  the  care  of  captains  or  directors,  as  the 
queen's  hired  servants.  After  this  exploit  he  returned 
to  New  York.  For  a  year  the  Palatines,  deprived  of 
their  arms  and  under  the  eye  of  the  military,  remained 
passive. 

Pastor  Kockerthal,  writing  of  them  at  this  period, 
says:  "All  are  at  work  and  busy,  but  manifestly  with 
repugnance  and  only  temporarily.  They  think  the 
tract  intended  for  them  a  Canaan,  but  dangerous  to 
settle  now,  so  they  have  patience.  But  they  will  not 
listen  to  tar-making."  In  the  fall  of  1712  the  governor 
informed  them  that  they  must  depend  upon  themselves 
for  subsistence  thereafter,  as  his  funds  were  exhausted. 
The  winter  passed  in  not  very  successful  efforts  to  keep 
the  wolf  from  the  door,  and  in  laying  plans  for  a  re- 
moval to  Scoharie  as  soon  as  spring  should  open. 
This  region  seems  to  have  been  the  Canaan  of  the 
wanderers.  Roseate  visions  of  it  had  been  flitting 
through  their  minds  since  their  departure  from  Eng- 
land. Hunters  and  trappers  with  whom  they  came  in 
contact  gave  glowing  accounts  of  its  beauty  and  fer- 
tility. It  lay  in  the  valley  of  the  Scoharie,  near  its 
junction  with  the  Mohawk,  some  thirty  miles  west  of 
Albany.     It  was  a  natural  prairie  of  rich,  deep  soil. 


110  In  Olde  New  York 

once  used  by  the  Indians  for  corn-lands,  but  which 
in  their  retreat  westward  had  been  abandoned. 

Early  in  May,  1713,  a  large  body  of  the  people, 
some  five  hundred  in  number,  proceeded  by  water  to 
Albany,  with  the  purpose  of  entering  the  valley  from 
thence.  Conrad  Weiser,  one  of  the  seven  captains, 
was  the  leader,  —  Pastor  Kockerthal  remaining  at  the 
Camps.  There  is  no  more  beautiful  drive  to-day 
than  the  old  road  from  Albany  to  Scoharie,  which 
follows  the  Hne  of  the  Indian  trail  that  led  the  emigrants 
to  their  happy  valley.  The  company  journeyed  on 
foot:  they  had  neither  vehicle  nor  draft-animal  of 
any  sort.  The  men  carried  their  arms,  seeds,  im- 
plements, and  household  effects  on  their  backs;  each 
matron  had  a  babe  in  arms,  a  group  of  little  toddlers 
beside  her,  and  perhaps  a  sack  of  provisions  or  bundle 
of  clothing  on  her  back.  An  Indian,  in  paint  and 
feathers,  led  the  way.  Thus  accoutered,  they  were 
three  days  making  the  journey.  At  night  they  camped 
in  the  open  air,  building  fires  to  keep  away  the  wolves. 
Up  the  heights  of  the  Helderberg,  one  of  the  northern- 
most spurs  of  the  Catskills,  they  toiled,  and  on  over 
ridge  and  valley,  until,  on  the  third  day,  from  the 
foot-hills  of  Fox  Creek  they  caught  sight  of  the  Scho- 
harie intervale.  It  is  dotted  now  with  villages  and 
rich  with  broad,  green  fields  surrounding  farmhouses 
where  content  and  abundance  reside,  —  one  of  the 
garden-spots  of  the  Empire  State,  —  a  valley  so  lovely 


The  Story  of  the  Palatines  111 

that  when  viewed  on  a  June  day  from  its  encircling 
hills  the  eye  is  loath  to  turn  from  the  entrancing 
sight.  It  was  beautiful  then,  though  art  had  done 
nothing  for  it;  and  eagerly  the  wanderers  thronged  into 
it  and  began  the  erection  of  their  homes.  They 
established  themselves  in  seven  villages,  each  named 
after  its  head  man,  and  to  each  householder  was 
allotted  forty  acres  of  land  to  clear,  fence,  and  till 
as  his  own.  The  settlement  soon  grew  into  a  thrifty 
and  prosperous  community,  and  for  sixty  years  nothing 
occurred  to  disturb  its  serenity  except  the  recurrence 
of  one  question,  that  of  the  title  to  the  lands. 

At  an  early  period,  Nicholas  Bayard,  an  agent  of 
the  Crown,  arrived,  and  sent  word  to  the  householders 
that  if  they  would  describe  to  him  the  boundaries  of 
their  land  he  would  give  them  a  free  deed  in  the  name 
of  the  queen.  But  the  people  had  grown  suspicious 
of  government  officials,  and,  looking  on  this  as  some 
new  device  to  deprive  them  of  their  lands,  treated  the 
agent  so  roughly  that  he  fled  to  Schenectady.  From 
that  place  he  again  offered  to  give  to  whoever  would 
appear  there  with  a  single  ear  of  corn  and  describe  his 
boundaries  a  free  deed  and  title  in  perpetuity.  The 
people,  however,  still  suspicious,  refused  this  offer; 
and  Bayard  then  repaired  to  Albany,  where  he  sold 
the  title  to  the  Scoharie  lands  to  five  landholders,  — 
one  of  them  being  Robert  Livingston,  Jr.  These 
gentlemen  soon  called  on  the  settlers,  either  to  pur- 


112  In  Olde  New  York 

chase  the  lands  they  had  cleared,  take  out  loans,  or  be 
evicted,  and,  no  notice  being  taken  of  the  summons, 
sent  the  sheriff  of  Albany  to  dispossess  them.  It  was  a 
general  notion  that  the  Palatines  were  a  mild,  inoffen- 
sive, pusillanimous  people,  who  would  submit  to  any 
injustice  rather  than  break  the  peace:  so  the  sheriff 
proceeded  on  his  mission  unaccompanied  by  even  a 
deputy,  and,  putting  up  at  the  public  house  in  Weiser's 
dorf,  made  known  his  conditions  to  the  villagers.  It 
is  not  recorded  that  the  men  made  any  objection  to 
these  harsh  terms;  but  the  mob  of  women  that  soon 
gathered  at  the  door  convinced  him  that  he  had  made 
a  mistake.  They  were  Amazons,  these  women,  strong 
daughters  of  the  hoe  and  plough,  bare-armed,  scant 
of  skirt,  strong-limbed  from  frequent  journeys  to 
Schenectady  bearing  the  bag  of  grain  to  be  floured; 
and  it  was  but  the  work  of  a  moment  for  two  of  them 
to  hustle  the  Uttle  sheriff  from  his  retreat  into  their 
midst.  There  he  was  knocked  down,  rolled  in  the 
mire  where  the  hogs  wallowed,  and  then  placed  on  a 
rail  and  ridden  "  skimmington  "  through  four  villages, 
—  Hartman's,  Bruna's,  Smith's,  and  Fox's  dorfs,  — 
in  all,  hissed  and  hooted  at  and  pelted  with  mud  as  the 
rogue  who  had  come  to  deprive  the  people  of  their 
homes.  At  length  the  poor  wretch,  more  dead  than 
alive,  was  set  down  on  the  Mill  bridge,  seven  miles 
from  his  starting-point,  and  bidden  to  betake  himself 
to  his  masters,  lest  worse  evils  should  befall  him.   Our 


The  Story  of  the  Palatines  113 

heroines,  however,  paid  dearly  for  their  sport  on  this 
occasion.  For  a  long  time  their  liege-lords  refused  to 
go  to  Albany  to  trade,  sending  their  wives  instead,  well 
knowing  that  they  would  be  held  responsible  for  the 
sheriff's  discomfiture.  After  a  while,  however,  thinking 
the  storm  had  blown  over,  several  of  them  ventured, 
and  were  summarily  seized  by  the  proprietors  and  kept 
in  prison  until  they  agreed  to  pay  the  price  demanded 
for  their  lands. 

It  is  time,  however,  that  we  should  return  to  glance 
briefly  at  the  history  of  their  fellow-pioneers  whom 
we  left  on  the  Hudson.  These  as  a  body  remained 
where  Governor  Hunter  had  placed  them  until  after 
the  death  of  the  good  pastor  Kockerthal  in  1719.  In 
1721  some  of  the  more  enterprising  began  agitating  a 
removal  to  the  rich  bottomlands  of  the  Mohawk 
promised  by  Queen  Anne.  Their  agents  were  sent 
out,  and  selected  a  tract  of  land  at  the  confluence  of 
Canada  Creek  with  the  Mohawk,  on  which  the  pros- 
perous towns  of  Herkimer  and  German  Flats  now 
stand.  Governor  Burnett  confirmed  this  tract  to  them 
by  a  patent  dated  January  17,  1722,  and  a  detachment 
of  ninety-two  persons  made  a  settlement  here,  proba- 
bly in  the  spring  of  that  year.  To  each  head  of  a 
family  was  allotted  forty  acres  of  land,  and  the  indus- 
try of  the  owners  soon  made  every  acre  as  productive 
as  a  garden. 

The  long-coveted  material  for  homes  was  at  last 


114  In  Olde  New  York 

secured  to  them,  and  hope  made  every  muscle  active 
and  enduring.  For  thirty-five  years  the  settlers  Uved 
a  sort  of  Acadian  Kfe.  Their  Indian  neighbors,  the 
Six  Nations,  through  the  influence  of  Sir  William 
Johnson,  continued  at  peace  with  the  English.  Ques- 
tions of  title  and  boundaries  which  disturbed  their 
compatriots  at  Scoharie  were  never  raised  here. 
Their  lands  were  perhaps  the  richest  ever  tilled,  and, 
with  their  simple  and  economical  habits,  a  generation 
was  sufficient  to  make  them  thrifty  and  comfortable 
land-holders,  with  large  framed  dwelHngs,  capacious 
bams,  schools,  churches,  and  mills.  This  fair  dream 
of  peace  was  rudely  dispelled,  however,  in  the  autumn 
of  1757,  when  a  body  of  three  hundred  French  and 
Indians,  under  M.  De  Beletre,  suddenly  appeared 
before  the  settlements  on  the  north  side  of  the  Mohawk. 
Part  of  the  inhabitants  fled  to  rude  forts,  or,  rather, 
block-houses,  which  had  been  constructed  for  such  an 
emergency,  and  from  this  retreat  beheld  the  torch 
applied  to  their  houses,  barns,  and  ricks,  their  live- 
stock herded  for  driving  away,  and  such  of  their  rela- 
tives as  had  not  been  able  to  reach  the  fort  captured 
or  inhumanly  butchered.  Next  the  enemy  appeared 
before  the  block-house  and  summoned  the  people  to 
surrender,  threatening  to  show  no  mercy  if  compelled 
to  take  it,  and  the  captains,  deeming  discretion  the 
better  part  of  valor,  opened  the  gates.  The  command- 
ing officer  then  massed  the  prisoners,  as  he  had  the 


The  Story  of  the  Palatines  115 

plunder,  and  the  long,  weary  march  to  Canada  was 
begun.  The  settlement  was  utterly  laid  waste.  Sixty 
buildings  were  burned,  forty  dead  were  left  on  the 
ground  unburied,  and  one  hundred  and  fifty  men, 
women,  and  children  were  borne  away  into  the  wilder- 
ness to  suffer  the  horrors  of  Indian  captivity. 

The  settlements  on  the  south  side,  directly  opposite, 
were  untouched,  the  ravagers  fearing  to  remain  long 
in  the  neighborhood,  lest  news  of  their  exploits  should 
bring  Sir  Willaim  and  his  Iroquois  upon  them.  With 
this  single  exception,  however,  the  three  principal 
Palatine  settlements  —  on  the  Mohawk,  the  Sco- 
harie,  and  the  Hudson  —  enjoyed,  during  the  colonial 
era,  the  blessings  of  peace.  Sir  WilKam  died  early  in 
1774,  some  said  by  his  own  hand  to  avoid  acting  against 
his  friends  in  the  struggle  which  he  saw  to  be  inevitable. 
The  struggle  quickly  followed  his  death,  and  it  found 
the  unhappy  Palatines  on  the  border  between  the  two 
contending  factions.  Fate  to  this  people  must  have 
seemed  inexorable.  Considering  the  persecutions  and 
miseries  they  had  suffered  in  the  Old  World,  the  oppres- 
sions and  extortions  that  met  them  in  the  New,  and 
the  horrors  visited  upon  them  in  the  Revolutionary 
struggle,  we  must  admit  that  there  never  lived  a  people 
more  hardly  used.  At  the  beginning  of  hostiUties,  it 
will  be  remembered,  the  Six  Nations  renewed  their 
allegiance  to  the  British  cause,  and  the  Crown  at  once 
let  them  loose  on  the  American  settlements,  stimulating 


116  In  Olde  New  York 

their  native  ferocity  by  the  offer  of  a  bounty  of  eight 
dollars  for  every  scalp  brought  in. 

The  Palatine  settlements,  from  their  defenseless 
condition,  and  the  fact  that  the  people  were  less  skilful 
in  the  use  of  arms  than  their  Yankee  neighbors,  became 
early  a  favorite  hunting-ground  for  the  red  rangers. 
The  murders,  burnings,  torturings,  and  other  atrocities 
committed  here  during  the  war  would  be  deemed  in- 
credible were  they  not  so  well  authenticated.  Wives 
saw  their  husbands  murdered,  scalped,  and  impaled 
on  the  pickets  that  fenced  their  gardens.  Wives  were 
brained  and  scalped  before  the  eyes  of  their  husbands, 
children  in  the  presence  of  their  parents;  babes  were 
torn  from  their  mothers'  breasts  to  be  dashed  upon  the 
stones;  and  the  hellish  carnival  generally  ended  with 
the  burning  of  all  that  the  settler  had  gathered  by 
years  of  toil,  and  the  carrying  away  into  captivity  of 
such  as  savage  fancy  had  spared. 

These  outrages  were  committed,  not  by  large  bodies 
of  men  whose  coming  could  be  discovered  and  guarded 
against,  but  by  detached  bands,  whose  approach  was 
as  stealthy  as  the  panther's  and  who  sprang  upon  the 
settlements  in  the  secure  hour  when  no  danger  was 
apprehended.  Their  effect  was  to  almost  depopulate 
the  Mohawk  Valley.  In  1781  it  was  estimated  that 
fully  one  third  of  the  inhabitants  had  been  killed  or 
captured;  and  most  of  the  remainder  had  fled  within 
the  American  lines  for  safety. 


The  Story  of  the  Palatines  117 

It  is  pleasant  to  know,  however,  that  this  was  the  last 
severe  affliction  visited  upon  this  long-suffering  people. 
After  the  war  the  survivors  returned  to  their  ruined 
homes;  the  soil  was  left  them,  and  returned  generous 
harvests,  as  if  in  pity  for  their  misfortunes,  and  a  gen- 
eration later  the  visitor  to  the  beautiful  valley  could 
discover  scarcely  a  trace  of  the  ruthless  hand  of  war. 


CHAPTER  XI 


A  DECAYED   STRONGHOLD 


T  OITERING  at  Ticonderoga,  through  bright 
-■— ^  autumn  days,  long  after  the  stream  of  tourists 
had  run  away,  we  made  many  voyages  of  discovery, 
each  so  interesting  that  it  might  with  profit  occupy 
a  week  of  a  summer  sojourn.  One  should  establish 
himself  at  the  pretty  village  of  Ticonderoga,  up  the 
outlet  of  Lake  George,  where  one  finds  good  hotels 
and  all  the  amenities.  Lake  George  is  three  miles 
away  on  the  south,  and  Lake  Champlain  two  miles 
on  the  east,  while  at  the  door  in  the  falls  of  the  outlet  is 
almost  every  variety  of  form  that  falHng  water  can 
assume.  This  outlet,  as  it  leaves  Lake  George,  is  a 
considerable  mill  stream  of  clear  cold  water,  sparkHng 
and  murmuring  among  meadows  until  reaching  the 
village  it  falls  nearly  250  feet  in  as  many  yards,  cover- 
ing almost  at  a  leap  the  difference  in  level  between  the 
two  lakes.  In  its  natural  state  the  cataract  must  have 
been  a  romantic  picture,  but  its  waters  are  now  *  so 
obstructed  by  dams  and  vexed  by  mill-wheels  that 
much  of  their  beauty  has  vanished.  Pulp  mills  en- 
^  This  was  written  in  1886. 


A  Decayed  Stronghold  119 

gaged  in  making  paper  from  the  poplar  which  grows 
along  the  lake  shore,  a  woolen  mill,  and  long,  low 
workshops,  in  which  the  graphite  found  in  the  neigh- 
boring hills  is  prepared  for  market,  are  now  clustered 
beside  the  cataract,  and  about  them  lies  the  village 
comprising  some  1900  inhabitants.  Below,  the  out- 
let flows  through  a  woody  glen  to  Lake  Champlain, 
so  deep  and  quiet  that  it  is  easily  navigable  by  small 
steamers ;  and  then  comes  the  lake,  —  so  narrow  and 
shallow  here  that  the  Vermont  Central  has  thrown  a 
draw-bridge  across  it  to  connect  its  system  with  that 
of  the  Delaware  and  Hudson,  but  lengthening  itseK 
out  like  a  ribbon  to  Whitehall,  twenty-two  miles  south. 
One  might  spend  days  rounding  the  fir-clad  promon- 
tories or  skirting  the  gently-circling  bay  shores  with- 
out discovering  one  half  its  beauties. 

The  great  feature  of  interest,  however,  is  old  Fort 
Ticonderoga.  As  one  glides  from  the  outlet  into  the 
lake  he  sees  over  a  marsh  on  the  left  a  gaunt,  craggy 
promontory  rising  abruptly  out  of  the  water  and 
stretching  back  into  the  forest  a  well-defined  wall  of 
trap  a  hundred  feet  above  the  level  of  the  lake.  The 
railway  coming  up  from  Whitehall  pierces  the  barrier 
by  a  tunnel.  On  the  right,  in  the  curve  of  the  bay 
formed  partly  by  this  promontory,  is  the  dock  where 
the  large  lake  steamers  land  their  passengers  for  Lake 
George.  This  promontory  is  Ticonderoga,  one  of  the 
most  historic  spots  in  America.     Clambering  up  its 


120  In  Olde  New  York 

ledges  to  the  summit,  one  finds  a  green,  sKghtly  rolling 
plateau,  with  black  rocks  outcropping  here  and  there 
among  the  grass,  and  in  its  center  gaunt  and  ragged 
walls  of  masonry.  In  some  of  them  embrasures  still 
gape,  and  beside  them  moat  and  sally-port,  north  and 
west  bastions,  parade,  and  barracks  are  still  traceable. 
A  little  further  east,  where  the  cliff  projects  over  the 
water,  may  be  defined  the  outhnes  of  a  redoubt. 
Sheep  are  feeding  now  among  the  grim  ruins,  and  one 
may  linger  all  day  without  being  disturbed  by  any 
chance  passer.  It  is  a  strange,  eventful  history  that 
of  this  rock.  When  the  French  engineers  of  Baron 
Dieskau  first  selected  it,  and  raised  here  the  walls  of 
their  Fort  Carillon,  they  did  it  to  command  the  great 
highway  between  the  EngKsh  colonies  on  the  south 
and  their  own  Dominion  of  Canada,  a  highway  which, 
making  use  of  the  Hudson  and  the  two  lakes  —  George 
and  Champlain  —  gave  almost  uninterrupted  water 
communication  between  the  St.  Lawrence  and  the 
Atlantic  at  New  York.  And  so  it  came  about  that  all 
the  wars  between  these  French  and  Engfish  colonies 
resolved  themselves  into  a  struggle  for  the  possession 
of  this  commanding  rock.  In  like  manner  it  became 
the  first  point  aimed  at  and  won  by  the  American 
colonies  in  their  later  struggle  against  England  for 
independence.  Strange  memories  cluster  about  the 
gray  old  ruin,  which  a  dreamy  October  day  is  apt  to 
revivify.     First  a  thousand  gay  Frenchmen  in   blue 


A  Decayed  Stronghold  121 

coats,  and  half  as  many  Iroquois  in  war  paint  and 
feathers,  march  away  up  the  outlet  toward  Lake  George, 
bound  on  the  congenial  errand  of  a  midnight  assault 
on  some  unguarded  fortress  or  sleeping  settlement. 
But  in  a  few  days  they  come  streaming  back  broken, 
defeated.  They  have  met  Johnson  and  his  provin- 
cials at  Fort  William  Henry,  at  the  head  of  the  lake. 
Next,  Vaudreuil  comes  on  the  same  errand,  wading 
through  the  March  snows,  but  is  broken  on  the  same 
sturdy  barrier.  But  the  Frenchmen  still  persist,  and 
five  months  later  Montcalm,  with  pennons  waving 
over  8000  men  in  arms,  comes  up  the  lake  bound  to 
sweep  the  English  from  Lake  George.  He  does  it, 
but  the  year  is  hardly  out  ere  Abercrombie,  with  15,000 
Englishmen,  sits  down  before  the  fort  and  demands 
its  surrender.  There  is  a  heady  fight,  and  the  fort 
holds  out,  but  the  English  retreat  only  to  reappear 
the  next  year  under  an  abler  general,  and  overthrow 
the  French  power  in  America. 

Under  Enghsh  rule  the  old  fort  saw  peaceful  days. 
The  quiet  lakes  were  no  more  the  field  of  contending 
nations.  Iroquois  and  Mohawks  went  no  more  on 
the  warpath.  A  corporal's  guard  of  forty  men  lounged 
about  the  crumbling  ramparts,  watched  the  lizard 
basking  in  the  sally-port,  drank  King  George's  health, 
and  shuffled  cards  on  unused  drumheads.  Then  came 
the  morning  of  the  10th  of  May,  1775,  when  in  the 
gray  dawn  a  motley  band  of  frontiersmen  in  backwoods 


122  In  Olde  New  York 

garb,  headed  by  one  Ethan  Allen,  of  Bennington, 
swarmed  over  the  parapets  and  drew  up  on  the  parade. 
We  should  like  to  have  seen  the  expression  of  the  old 
red-faced  martinet  who  commanded  when  confronted 
by  this  band  of  farmers  and  ordered  to  surrender 
"  in  the  name  of  the  great  Jehovah  and  the  Continental 
Congress." 


CHAPTER  XII 


THE   ORISKANY   MONUMENT 


GLIDING  swiftly  eastward  on  the  New  York 
Central  Railroad  and  nearing  the  little  village 
of  Oriskany,  in  Oneida  County,  a  tall  shaft  on  a 
neighboring  hilltop  to  the  right  flashed  by.  The 
monument  is  to  General  Herkimer  and  the  brave 
patriots  of  1777,  and  it  marks  the  Oriskany  battle-field 
as  well.  The  whole  region  is  storied  ground.  We 
left  the  train  at  the  httle  station  of  Oriskany,  and 
walked  back  along  the  tow-path  of  the  canal  for  the 
first  mile,  thence  across  the  latter  by  a  bridge  and 
along  a  rural  lane  to  the  highway  which  sldrts  the 
brow  of  the  hill  on  which  the  monument  stands.  In 
his  cottage  overlooking  the  battle-field,  we  found  Mr. 
Rohn  M.  Lewis,  the  custodian  of  the  grounds,  who 
added  much  to  the  interest  of  our  visit  by  personally 
guiding  us  to  the  scenes  of  greatest  interest,  and 
which,  being  unmarked,  we  would  have  found  by  our- 
selves difficult  to  determine. 

The  monument  stands  where  the  battle  was  fought, 
on  the  edge  of  a  sharp  bluff  rearing  itself  above  the 
Mohawk  Valley,  on  a  plot  of  five  acres  of  meadow 


124  In  Olde  New  York 

purchased  by  the  Association  for  the  purpose.  It  is 
of  Maine  granite,  eighty-five  feet  high  above  the  base, 
which  is  of  the  valley  limestone.  On  each  side  of  the 
die  of  the  pedestal  is  a  tablet  of  bronze  six  feet  wide 
and  four  and  a  half  high.  Two  of  the  bronzes  are 
pictorial,  and  represent  one,  General  Herkimer  direct- 
ing the  fight  after  receiving  his  mortal  wound,  the 
other  a  pioneer  and  Indian  engaged  in  deadly  struggle. 
On  one  of  the  remaining  tablets  is  the  dedication,  and 
on  the  other  a  roster  containing  the  names  of  those 
patriots  engaged  in  the  fight,  as  far  as  they  could  be 
learned  —  but  250  out  of  800.  The  dedication  was 
written  by  Professor  Edward  North,  of  Hamilton 
College,  and  is  in  excellent  taste.  It  is  as  fol- 
lows: 

"Here  was  fought  the  battle  of  Oriskany  on  the 
6th  day  of  August,  1777.  Here  British  invasion  was 
checked  and  thwarted.  Here  Gen.  Nicholas  Herkimer, 
intrepid  leader  of  the  American  forces,  though  mor- 
tally wounded,  kept  command  of  the  fight,  till  the 
enemy  had  fled.  The  life  blood  of  more  than  200 
patriot  heroes  made  this  battle-ground  sacred  for- 
ever. 

"This  Monument  was  built  a.d.  1883  in  the  year 
of  Independence  107,  by  grateful  dwellers  in  the 
Mohawk  Valley,  under  the  direction  of  the  Oneida 
Historical  Society,  aided  by  the  National  Government 
and  the  State  of  New  York." 


The  Oriskany  Monument 


The  Oriskany  Monument  125 

The  first  mover  in  the  matter  of  erecting  this  monu- 
ment was  the  Continental  Congress  of  1777,  which 
passed  the  following  resolution: 

"That  the  Governor  and  Council  of  New  York  be 
desired  to  erect  a  monument  at  Continental  expense 
of  the  value  of  $500  to  the  memory  of  the  late  Briga- 
dier-General Herkimer,  who  commanded  the  militia 
of  Tryon  County,  in  the  State  of  New  York,  and  was 
killed  fighting  gallantly  in  defence  of  the  liberties  of 
these  States." 

But  the  people  were  too  poor  to  give  effect  to  this 
praiseworthy  resolution,  and  it  slumbered  until  in 
1876  the  Oneida  Historical  Society  was  formed  at 
Utica,  when  it  actively  began  the  work  so  long  delayed. 
Pubhc  meetings  were  held,  the  press  enlisted.  Con- 
gress was  appealed  to,  and  at  length  induced  to  vote 
the  original  sum  of  $500,  with  interest  amounting  to 
$4100,  to  which  the  Legislature  of  New  York  added 
$3000  conditional  to  a  Hke  sum  being  raised  by  private 
subscription.  The  monument  was  erected  in  1883, 
and  dedicated  with  appropriate  ceremonies,  in  the 
presence  of  a  large  audience,  on  the  6th  of  August, 
1884,  the  107th  anniversary  of  the  battle. 

The  visitor  can  but  be  charmed  with  the  outlook 
from  the  spot.  At  his  feet  is  the  winding,  gently  un- 
dulating valley  of  the  Upper  Mohawk,  covered  with 
tilth  and  grange,  the  new-bom  river  sparkling  in  its 
midst.   The  Erie  Canal  runs  at  the  foot  of  the  bluff,  and 


126  In  Olde  New  York 

beside  it  the  great  national  highway,  the  New  York 
Central,  with  its  four  roadways  over  which  ten  trains 
every  hour  pass.  Half-a-dozen  boats  are  in  sight  on 
the  canal,  moving  sedately  in  such  striking  contrast 
to  the  roar  and  rush  of  the  train.  Rome  is  but  six 
miles  away  on  the  west,  Utica  nine  miles  on  the  east. 
Across  the  valley  the  hills  rise  gently  in  alternate  farm 
and  forest,  with  the  spire  of  more  than  one  village 
church  pricking  above  the  greenery. 

"This  battle  of  Oriskany,"  said  our  friend  musingly, 
"  would  be  considered  a  mere  skirmish  in  our  day,  but 
it  wrought  ulterior  results  of  the  greatest  importance. 
Down  there  in  the  Mohawk  Valley  at  Herkimer, 
twenty-four  miles  distant,  in  1725  a  colony  of  German 
Palatines  from  the  Rhenish  Palatinate  had  been  settled. 
As  has  been  well  said,  because  they  were  so  well  used 
to  fire,  and  sword,  battle,  siege,  and  massacre  at  home, 
they  could  better  stand  the  savage  incursions  to  which 
that  frontier  fort  was  then  exposed. 

"Among  these  Palatines  was  a  certain  John  Jost 
Herkimer,  or  properly  Hercheimer,  who  had  a  son 
Nicholas,  who  in  1776  had  risen  to  be  a  leader  among 
his  people,  and  for  that  reason  had  been  appointed 
Brigadier-General  of  the  militia  of  Tryon  County. 
The  British  plan  of  battle  directed  Burgoyne  to  march 
down  Lake  Champlain,  and  Colonel  St.  Leger  with 
an  auxihary  force  to  enter  the  Mohawk  Valley  at  its 
head  and  move  down  it,  swelling  his  column  with  the 


The  Oriskany  Monument  127 

Tories  and  Indians  who  were  numerous  then,  and 
gathering  from  its  rich  fields  supplies  for  the  main 
column,  which  he  was  to  join  at  Albany.  On  the  16th 
of  July  Herkimer  heard  that  St.  Leger  had  appeared 
at  Oswego  with  a  large  force  bent  on  this  expedition, 
and  he  at  once  issued  his  proclamation  calling  for 
volunteers  to  repel  the  invader.  On  the  4th  of  August 
he  set  out  with  800  men  to  meet  the  foe  who  had  in- 
vested Fort  Stanwix,  which  stood  yonder  in  the  valley 
near  the  present  site  of  Rome.  St.  Leger,  apprised  of 
his  coming,  sent  forward  his  Tories  and  Indians  to 
form  an  ambush  in  yonder  ravine,  and  in  the  heavy 
timber  which  then  covered  this  hill.  Herkimer's  van 
guard  came  marching  along  the  road  yonder,  httle 
suspecting  danger,  when  suddenly  they  were  saluted 
with  a  volley  and  the  deafening  yells  of  the  savages. 
Fortunately  the  German  farmers  were  untrammeled 
by  discipline.  They  broke  ranks  at  once,  and  fought 
as  their  enemies  fought,  from  tree  to  tree  and  from 
rock  to  rock.  For  ^ve  long  hours  the  battle  continued. 
Herkimer's  white  horse  was  early  killed  under  him, 
and  he  was  mortally  wounded;  he  directed  his  saddle 
to  be  placed  on  a  fallen  tree  and  calmly  sat  on  it,  smok- 
ing his  pipe  and  commanding  the  battle.  Two  hun- 
dred of  the  patriots  lay  dead,  when  suddenly  the 
savages  lost  heart  and  fled,  giving  the  day  to  the  brave 
Herkimer  and  his  followers.  St.  Leger's  march  was 
stayed.     Burgoyne,  deprived  of  his  ally,  and  of  the 


128  In  Olde  New  York 

expected  provisions,  surrendered,  and  Continental 
aflFairs  assumed  an  entirely  new  phase." 

Mr.  Lewis  took  us  to  a  spot  on  the  hillside  near  the 
ravine  and  pointed  out  the  site  of  the  tree  on  which 
Herkimer  sat  to  direct  the  battle,  and  then  into  the 
ravine  to  see  a  corduroy  road  hastily  laid  by  General 
Herkimer  on  the  day  of  the  battle  for  Ms  troops  to  cross. 
A  ditch  had  recently  been  dug  across  it,  cutting  through 
some  of  the  logs  which  were  seen  to  be  still  in  good 
heart.  Several  of  them  since  the  erection  of  the  monu- 
ment had  been  carried  to  the  sawmill  and  sawn  into 
canes,  which  had  been  quickly  disposed  of  as  relics  of 
the  fight.* 

*  This  article  was  written  in  1883. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

JOHNSON   HALL^ 

A  S  I  sit  at  my  window  in  the  village  hotel  of  Johns- 
-^^^  town,  I  see  across  green  meadows  a  fine  old 
country  seat  set  on  a  little  elevation  in  a  pretty  park 
of  native  trees.  The  villagers  know  it  as  Johnson 
Hall,  the  former  seat  of  Sir  William  Johnson,  Baronet. 
Perhaps  no  house  in  the  land  has  seen  stranger  vicissi- 
tudes. Council  after  council  of  red  men  has  beea 
held  within  its  walls;  throngs  of  painted  savages  have 
surrounded  it,  sometimes  bent  on  merry-making, 
sometimes  on  war.  Settlers  have  fled  to  it  for  refuge. 
In  its  old  Kbrary  for  twelve  long  years  centered  all  the 
wires  that  directed  the  Indian  affairs  of  the  northern 
colonies.  Then  spies  were  continually  going  out  from 
it  into  all  the  Indian  country,  and  swift  runners  bear- 
ing belts  or  messages  from  the  Canada  tribes,  from 
the  Ottawas,  Wyandots,  Senecas,  and  Shawnees,  and 
from  the  outposts  of  Detroit  and  along  the  lakes,  were 
continually  arriving.  It  has  been  the  scene  too  of  a 
generous  hospitality.  An  Indian  princess  once  pre- 
sided there  as  its  mistress,  and  entertained  at  her 
*  First  appeared  in  the  New  York  Evening  Post  in  1883. 


ISO  In  Olde  New  York 

board  with  equal  courtesy  titled  visitors  from  foreign 
lands,  grave  colonial  gentlemen  in  wigs  and  ruffles, 
and  the  blanketed  chieftains  of  her  own  nation. 
Groups  of  merry  children,  showing  the  lineaments  of 
the  Caucasian  father  and  Indian  mother,  have  played 
about  its  doors.  It  has  been  the  scene  of  bridals, 
births,  and  deaths,  of  stirring  incidents,  romantic 
episodes,  and  diplomatic  triumphs  without  number, 
and  now  in  more  peaceful  days  preserves  the  stateli- 
ness  and  dignity  befitting  a  mansion  with  a  history. 
The  old  house  stands  on  a  slight  elevation,  about  a 
mile  from  the  village,  in  a  park  of  some  ten  acres,  with 
meadows  and  green  fields  sloping  from  it  in  every 
direction.  The  approach  is  by  a  private  road  set  with 
shade  trees.  The  park  is  well  kept  and  fragrant  with 
flowers  and  shrubbery.  Four  great,  gaunt  poplars 
stand  within  it  which  are  pointed  out  as  having  been 
planted  by  the  Baronet  himself,  a  year  after  the  house 
was  built.  A  row  of  gnarled  old  Klac  trees  set  in  the 
form  of  an  ellipse,  and  slill  blooming  in  their  season, 
were  set  out  by  the  same  hand. 

The  Hall  itself  is  a  square-roofed  two-story  and 
attic  structure,  built  of  wood  clapboarded  in  the  form 
of  blocks  of  stone,  and  at  its  best  estate  had  two  wings 
built  of  solid  stone  and  pierced  for  musketry;  but  one 
of  these,  however,  is  now  standing.  On  entering  the 
house  its  solidity  and  wide  proportions  at  once  mark 
it  as  a  product  of  the  colonial  era.     Its  timbers  are 


j:^ 

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Johnson  Hall  131 

massive.  The  hall  running  through  the  building  is 
forty  feet  long  by  fifteen  wide,  with  a  broad  staircase 
leading  to  a  similar  hall  above.  The  rooms  are  high 
and  spacious  and  the  sides  are  wainscoted  with  heavy 
panels  and  carved  work.  On  the  roof  is  an  observa- 
tory from  which  one  may  look  into  four  counties. 
This,  however,  did  not  form  a  part  of  the  original 
structure.  Bow-windows  in  parlor  and  dining-room 
have  also  been  added  by  the  present  owner.  In  other 
respects  it  stands  precisely  as  it  was  left  by  its  titled 
builder.  It  was  built  in  1763,  and  was  then  considered 
one  of  the  finest  mansions  in  the  colony  outside  of  New 
York. 

Sir  William  Johnson  came  of  a  good  family  in  Ireland 
and  arrived  in  America  in  1738,  at  the  age  of  twenty- 
three,  to  take  charge  of  a  large  estate  in  the  Mohawk 
Valley  which  his  uncle,  Captain  Peter  Warren,  had 
purchased  some  years  before.  Either  through  his 
own  address  or  the  influence  of  his  family  the  young 
Irishman  "got  on"  famously  in  the  new  world.  He 
cleared  lands,  invited  settlers,  opened  a  country  store, 
built  a  flouring  mill,  and  drove  a  profitable  trade  with 
the  Indians,  and  in  a  few  years  became  favorably 
known  not  only  in  his  own  section  but  at  Albany  and 
New  York.  In  a  few  years  we  find  him  receiving 
offices  from  the  Crown,  but  that  which  secured  him 
the  favor  of  his  Government  and  brought  him  wealth 
and  honors  was  the  unbounded  influence  which  he 


132  In  Olde  New  York 

soon  acquired  over  his  savage  neighbors,  the  Six 
Nations.  Perhaps  no  other  man  ever  studied  the 
Indian  character,  habits,  and  sympathies  so  thoroughly, 
or  possessed  such  tact  and  skill  in  making  use  of  his 
knowledge.  To  secure  their  friendship,  he  visited 
them  in  their  villages,  dressed  in  their  garb,  sat  in 
their  councils,  seated  them  as  guests  at  his  own  table, 
took  part  in  their  ceremonies,  and  allied  himself 
domestically  with  one  of  their  most  powerful  clans. 
He  early  saw  the  importance  to  the  colony  and  to  Eng- 
land of  winning  and  holding  this  strong  confederacy 
to  the  Enghsh  cause,  and  that  the  man  who  could  do 
this  was  sure  of  advancement  and  favor.  He  lived 
during  the  stirring  period  of  the  French  and  Indian 
wars.  Wily  emissaries  of  the  French  were  continually 
appearing  among  the  Six  Nations,  bribing  them  and 
striving  to  arouse  their  prejudices  against  their  neigh- 
bors, the  English;  but  during  this  entire  period  the 
influence  of  this  one  man  held  the  Indians  to  their 
fealty  and  saved  the  colony  from  destruction.  It  was 
natural  that  he  should  be  rewarded  for  this.  As  early 
as  1746  the  chief  management  of  Indian  affairs  was 
entrusted  to  him  and  he  was  given  the  command  of 
several  Indian  expeditions  against  the  French.  In  1755 
he  was  made  a  Major-General  and  given  command 
of  one  of  the  four  armies  raised  that  year  for  service 
against  the  French,  and  after  meeting  and  defeating 
Baron  Dieskau  on  Lake  George  the  Crown  created 


Johnson  Hall  133 

him  a  Baronet,  while  Parliament  voted  him  five  thou- 
sand pounds  to  support  the  honor.  In  addition  he 
had  received  at  various  times  immense  tracts  of  land. 
In  1762  he  was  the  owner,  either  by  purchase  or  grant, 
of  nearly  all  the  fertile  region  now  included  in  the 
county  of  Fulton,  and  about  this  time  settled  one 
hundred  families  on  the  site  of  the  present  village  of 
Johnstown,  and  partly  for  their  protection  and  partly 
to  maintain  a  better  espionage  over  the  Indians  built 
the  old  mansion  which  I  have  described.  The  scene 
then  was  far  different  from  that  presented  now.  A 
heavy  forest  covered  the  country,  broken  only  by  the 
clearing  about  the  little  settlement,  and  bear  and 
panther,  Mohawk,  Delaware,  and  Seneca  prowled  in  it. 
The  Hall  was  scarcely  completed  when  it  became 
the  scene  of  a  notable  Indian  council.  In  the  summer 
of  1762  Pontiac,  King  of  the  great  Ottawa  Confederacy, 
had  formed  a  design  of  driving  the  English  from  the 
country  and  had  invited  all  the  great  interior  tribes, 
among  them  the  Six  Nations,  to  join  with  him  in  the 
enterprise.  The  Senecas  alone  were  seduced  from 
their  allegiance,  many  of  their  braves  being  engaged 
with  Pontiac  in  the  attacks  which  were  made  that  year 
on  the  English  outposts  in  the  West.  The  chiefs  of 
the  five  nations,  unsoUcited  by  Johnson,  went  to  re- 
monstrate with  the  offending  tribe,  but  they  found  its 
young  men  averse  to  remaining  at  peace  with  the  Eng- 
lish.    A  few  of  their  clans,  however,  had  not  gone  on 


184  In  Olde  New  York 

the  war  path,  and  these  desired  the  intercession  of  the 
ambassadors  that  they  might  be  spared  in  the  chastise- 
ment which  they  were  sure  the  EngKsh  would  inflict 
on  their  nation,  and  it  was  arranged  that  six  of  the 
friendly  Senecas  should  return  with  the  embassy  to 
Johnson  Hall  and  present  their  claims  in  person. 
The  conference  was  held  on  the  7th  of  September. 
Three  hundred  and  twenty  delegates  from  the  five 
nations  with  the  six  friendly  Senecas  in  all  the  bravery 
of  paint  and  feathers  attended  it.  Johnson,  attired 
in  the  full  uniform  of  Major-General,  gave  the  head 
chiefs  an  audience  in  the  drawing-room  of  the  old 
mansion.  The  Onondaga  chief  opened  the  council 
with  a  speech  in  which  he  graphically  depicted  the 
whole  course  of  the  mission  and  the  present  hostile 
attitude  of  the  Senecas,  introduced  in  fitting  terms 
the  envoys  of  the  peaceful  clans,  and  dwelt  eloquently 
on  the  loyalty  of  the  five  nations  to  the  EngKsh  despite 
the  specious  promises  of  Pontiac.  Johnson's  reply 
showed  the  finesse  of  the  accomplished  diplomat.  He 
commended  the  loyalty  of  the  five  nations  in  their 
efforts  to  bring  the  Senecas  to  reason,  and  reminded 
them  that  the  latter  were  not  only  enemies  to  the  English 
but  traitors  to  the  Confederacy,  since  they  interrupted 
its  trade  and  disturbed  its  friendly  relations  with  the 
English.  He  might  justly  ask  them  to  take  up  the 
hatchet  against  the  delinquents,  but  only  desired  them 
to  remain  quiet  and  observe  how  the  English  punished 


Johnson  Hall  135 

their  enemies.  Turning  to  the  friendly  Senecas,  he 
commended  their  individual  loyalty,  but  gave  them  to 
understand  that,  as  their  nation  was  in  open  rebellion, 
any  clemency  that  might  be  shown  them  would  be  due 
to  the  intercession  of  their  confederates.  The  council 
broke  up  with  the  fealty  of  the  five  great  nations  during 
Pontiac's  war  secured. 

Close  on  the  heels  of  this  council  came  an  embassy 
from  the  Ganniagwaris,  a  people  of  the  same  stock  as 
the  Mohawks,  but  now  residing  on  the  Saint  Lawrence, 
praying  for  redress  from  the  Jesuits,  who  had  seized 
some  of  their  richest  lands  by  virtue  of  a  patent  from 
Louis  XIV.  The  Baronet  promised  to  lay  their 
grievance  before  the  King,  and  then  began  the  task 
of  enlisting  them  on  the  English  side  in  a  war  against 
Pontiac.  They  replied  figuratively,  referring  to  their 
disarmament  by  the  English  in  the  last  French  War. 
"When  you  took  the  war  axe  from  us  you  directed  us 
to  pursue  our  hunting,  so  that  we  must  now  be  still, 
having  no  axe."  In  reply  Sir  William  presented  them 
with  an  axe  of  the  best  English  steel  and  directed  them 
to  pass  it  around  among  their  warriors  with  instruc- 
tions to  use  it  in  cutting  ojff  all  the  bad  links  which  had 
sullied  the  chain  of  friendship.  The  embassy  returned, 
and  in  a  few  days  their  three  hundred  braves  were  on 
the  war  path  against  Pontiac. 

But  the  most  notable  council  ever  held  here  was  that 
of  1768,  between  the  Six  Nations  and  their  ancient 


136  In  Olde  New  York 

enemies,  the  Cherokees.  In  December,  1767,  three 
Cherokee  chiefs  arrived  at  Albany  by  sloop  from  New 
York,  and,  accompanied  by  Colonel  Philip  Schuyler, 
proceeded  on  horseback  to  Johnson  Hall,  their  object 
being  to  arrange  a  treaty  of  peace  between  their  nation 
and  the  Confederacy.  The  Baronet  entertained  them 
in  state,  and  at  once  despatched  the  belt  by  runners 
to  call  a  grand  council  of  the  tribes.  On  the  third  of 
March  a  large  body  of  the  confederates  and  their  allies 
had  been  gathered  at  the  Hall.  They  came  out  of  the 
dense  forest  singly  and  by  twos  and  threes,  Delawares, 
Shawnees,  Senecas,  and  Mohawks,  with  laggard  steps 
and  lowering  brows,  and  gathered  about  the  Hall, 
until  seven  hundred  and  sixty  warriors  had  surrounded 
it.  No  man  ever  had  a  more  formidable  task  appointed 
him  than  had  the  Baronet  in  moving  this  large  assembly 
to  his  will.  The  entire  Confederacy  was  in  a  ferment 
this  time  over  the  outrages  committed  upon  it  by  the 
English.  Its  lands  had  been  seized,  its  members 
jeered  and  insulted,  and  many  of  them  murdered  by 
settlers.  No  notice  had  been  taken  of  their  offer  to 
cede  all  their  lands  east  of  the  Ohio  for  a  small  con- 
sideration, and  the  colonies  were  on  the  verge  of  another 
terrible  Indian  war.  The  Baronet,  however,  held 
several  private  interviews  with  the  principal  chiefs 
before  the  grand  council  took  place,  at  which  he  told 
them  among  other  things  that  he  had  received  certain 
intelligence  that  the  King  had  decided  to  accept  their 


Johnson  Hall  137 

ofiFer  to  sell  the  lands  east  of  the  Ohio,  and  so  far  won 
them  to  good  humor  that  at  the  council  the  treaty  with 
the  Cherokees  was  concluded. 

These  were  a  few  of  the  many  councils  and  private 
meetings  of  chiefs  of  which  the  old  Hall  has  been  the 
scene.  Disputes  and  questions  of  various  kinds,  such 
as  were  continually  arising  on  the  border,  were  also 
brought  here  for  settlement.  Petty  differences  between 
Indian  and  white  man,  land  claims  involving  thousands 
of  acres,  were  here  decided,  and  criminal  actions  con- 
ducted. 

Despite  his  public  duties  the  Baronet  found  time 
for  a  genial  and  generous  hospitality.  Few  gentlemen 
of  the  colony  or  foreign  visitors  of  rank  or  note  came 
into  the  Mohawk  Valley  without  being  entertained 
under  his  roof.  Among  the  latter  was  Lord  Adam 
Gordon,  who  afterward  became  Commander-in-Chief 
of  the  army  in  Scotland,  and  between  whom  and  his 
host  a  firm  friendship  was  established.  Another  titled 
visitor  was  Lady  Susan  O 'Brian,  eldest  daughter  of 
Stephen  Fox,  first  Earl  of  Ilchester,  and  sister  of  Lady 
Harriet  Ackland. 

The  mistress  of  the  mansion  during  these  years  was 
an  Indian  princess,  a  sister  of  the  celebrated  Mohawk 
chief  Thayendanega.  She  first  attracted  the  Baronet's 
attention  at  a  militia  training,  where,  a  beautiful, 
sprightly  girl  of  sixteen,  she  won  the  plaudits  of  the 
multitude  by  leaping  at  the  invitation  of  an  officer  to 


138  In  Olde  New  York 

the  crupper  of  his  horse  and  riding  with  him  in  a  mad 
gallop  about  the  parade  ground.  About  1750  the 
Baronet  and  she  were  married  according  to  the  Indian 
custom,  although  it  is  not  probable  that  the  English 
ceremony  was  ever  performed.  The  lady  is  de- 
scribed as  being  agreeable  in  person  and  as  possess- 
ing sound  understanding.  Lady  O 'Brian  speaks 
of  her  in  her  letters  as  a  well-bred  and  agreeable 
lady,  who  in  many  rambles  about  the  forests  proved 
herself  a  pleasant  companion.  Sir  William's  chief 
object  in  the  alliance,  no  doubt,  was  to  secure 
greater  influence  with  the  Indian  chiefs,  but  the  lady 
seems  to  have  made  him  a  faithful  wife,  and  the  pair 
lived  together  in  the  greatest  harmony  until  the  hus- 
band's death. 

This  event  occurred  suddenly  in  the  Hbrary  of  the 
old  house  on  the  9th  of  July,  1774.  During  the  day 
the  Baronet  had  stood  two  hours  in  the  burning  July 
sun,  delivering  a  speech  to  several  hundred  Indians 
who  had  assembled  to  ask  his  aid  in  seeking  redress 
for  encroachments  on  their  lands.  At  the  conclusion 
of  the  address  he  was  seized  with  a  violent  attack  of 
dysentery  and  conveyed  to  his  Hbrary,  where  he  died 
in  the  arms  of  a  faithful  attendant  almost  before  his 
family  could  reach  the  scene.  This  was  the  last  event 
worthy  of  note  in  the  history  of  the  old  mansion.  In 
the  troubles  which  quickly  followed,  the  Baronet's 
family  espoused  the  royal  cause  and  the  Hall  became 


Johnson  Hall  139 

an  object  of  suspicion  and  dislike  to  the  patriot  leaders. 
It,  however,  happily  escaped  the  torch  during  the  war, 
and  remains  one  of  the  few  colonial  houses  with  a 
history  saved  to  the  student  of  to-day. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THOMAS   PAINE's   LAST   HOME* 

npHE  thousands  that  daily  whirl  by  New  Rochelle 
-■-  on  the  trains  of  the  Consolidated  Railroad  see 
little  more  than  the  earth  and  stone  walls  of  a  deep 
cut,  and  up  on  the  bank  to  the  right  a  stone  church 
surrounded  by  an  ancient  churchyard.  If  one  leaves 
the  train  for  a  day's  ramble,  he  finds  beyond  the  stone 
walls  and  the  church  a  large  town,  with  many  fine  old 
country-seats,  and  as  many  modern  villas,  wide  busi- 
ness and  residence  streets,  and  as  many  narrow  ones 
lined  with  humbler  dwellings. 

A  road  stretches  north  away  from  the  town  eight 
miles  to  the  village  of  White  Plains  and  its  ancient 
battle-ground  —  a  highway  made  smooth  and  hard  by 
its  covering  of  broken  stone,  winding  between  ranks 
of  tall,  ragged  locusts,  their  tops  dead  and  broken 
oflF,  through  a  beautiful  and.  highly  cultivated 
region. 

One  passes  here  a  country  seat,  there  a  new  villa  smart 
with  a  coat  of  parti-colored  paint;  just  beyond  a  little 
cottage  with  stone  walls  and  gables,  low,  antiquated 

» Written  in  1885. 


Thomas  Paine's  Last  Home  141 

porch,  green  wooden  shutters,  and  huge  chimney 
that  must  have  been  built  for  one  of  the  Huguenot 
yeomen  who  settled  New  Rochelle  over  two  centuries 
ago. 

At  one  place,  on  a  bluff  in  thick  woods,  is  an  old, 
deserted  house  that  has  been  without  human  habitant 
to  care  for  it  for  generations,  and  where,  in  Revolu- 
tionary days,  when  the  cowboys  and  skinners  harried 
all  this  region,  an  old  man  and  his  daughter  were  tor- 
tured and  left  for  dead  in  the  effort  to  make  them  re- 
veal the  depository  of  their  secret  hoards. 

By  all  the  rules  of  apparitions  this  house  should  be 
haunted,  but  on  inquiry  the  pilgrim  could  find  no  record 
of  so  much  as  a  ghostly  light  or  footfall  ever  being  seen 
or  heard  there. 

A  mile  of  this  road,  and  then  the  tourist  pauses  on 
the  side  of  a  hill  whose  summit  is  crowned  with  hand- 
some dwellings  and  fine  farms,  before  a  marble  shaft 
set  in  a  space  some  twelve  feet  square,  with  an  iron 
fence  in  front  and  a  solid  wall  of  stone  enclosing  it 
from  the  meadow  behind,  and  from  a  lane  that  turns 
in  on  the  north  side,  and  after  dipping  down  to  cross 
a  brook,  ascends  the  hill  to  a  modest,  low-walled 
farmhouse  that  with  its  outbuildings  occupies  the 
summit. 

On  the  western  face  of  the  monument,  next  the 
road,  is  a  medallion  likeness  of  Thomas  Paine,  with 
the  inscription: 


142  In  Olde  New  York 

"Thomas  Paine, 

Author  of  *  Common  Sense.' 

Bom  in  England,  January  29,  1737, 

Died  in  New  York  city,  June  8,  1809. 

*The  palaces  of  kings  are  built  upon  the  ruins  of  the 

bowers  of  Paradise.'  —  Common  Sense." 

Above  the  medallion  is  Paine's  motto: 

"  The  world  is  my  country. 
To  do  good  my  rehgion." 

The  south  side  bears  quotations  from  the  Crisis 
No.  I.  and  from  Crisis  No.  XV.  The  inscriptions  on 
the  east  and  north  sides  are  taken  from  the  "Age  of 
Reason."  Fertile  meadows  sweep  away  to  the  east- 
ward, cut  in  twain  by  the  farm-road  mentioned.  They 
form  part  of  the  estate  given  to  Paine  in  1783  by  the 
State  of  New  York  for  his  services  in  the  Revolution. 

The  history  of  both  monument  and  farm  is  interest- 
ing. Paine,  as  he  lay  on  his  dying  bed,  evinced  con- 
siderable anxiety  as  to  the  disposal  of  his  body  after 
death,  fearing,  perhaps,  that  it  would  not  meet  with 
proper  respect.  His  father  was  a  Quaker,  and  he 
desired  to  be  laid  to  rest  in  the  burying-ground  of  that 
people.  He  sent  to  Mr.  Willet  Hicks,  a  respectable 
Quaker  living  near,  and  said  that,  as  he  was  going  to 
leave  one  place,  it  was  necessary  to  provide  another, 
and  wished  to  be  interred  in  the  Quaker  burying- 
ground,  adding  that  he  might  be  interred  in  the  Epis- 


The  Thomas  Paine  Memorial 


Thomas  Paine 's  Last  Home  143 

copal  churchyard,  but  they  were  so  arrogant,  or  in  the 
Presbyterian,  but  they  were  so  hypocritical.  The 
Quakers,  however,  refused  the  desired  permission. 

In  his  last  will  and  testament,  dated  January  18, 
1809,  Paine  expressed  a  wish  to  be  buried  in  the 
Quaker  burying-ground  if  they  permitted  it,  but  if 
they  would  not  allow  it  he  wished  to  be  buried  on  his 
farm,  "the  place  where  I  am  to  be  buried  to  be  a 
square  of  twelve  feet,  to  be  enclosed  with  rows  of  trees 
and  a  stone  or  post  and  rail  fence,  with  a  headstone 
with  my  name  and  age  engraved  upon  it,  *  Author  of 
Common  Sense.'"  He  was  so  buried  in  a  plot  in  the 
field  a  few  yards  south  of  the  present  monument.  In 
1819,  however,  William  Cobbett,  the  great  English 
Liberal,  while  in  this  country  dug  up  his  bones  and 
carried  them  to  England,  but  what  disposition  was 
made  of  them  is  not  known.  In  1838-9  funds  for  the 
present  monument  were  raised  by  public  subscription, 
and  the  marble  was  cut  at  Tuckahoe.  When  those 
having  the  matter  in  charge  came  to  erect  it,  they  were 
forbidden  by  the  owner  to  cross  his  land  to  the  grave, 
the  farm  now  having  passed  into  strange  lands,  and 
after  some  delay  the  present  site  was  purchased  and 
the  stone  was  erected  there. 

After  a  time  the  monument  fell  into  neglect.  Those 
who  had  known  Paine,  or  who  remembered  the  facts 
attending  its  erection,  had  died  or  removed.  A  few 
years  ago  the  stone  was  used  as  a  bill-board,  and  was 


144  In  Olde  New  York 

literally  covered  with  handbills  and  posters.  At 
length  a  movement  was  set  on  foot  in  New  York 
and  New  Rochelle,  funds  were  collected  sufficient  to 
restore  it,  and  in  1881  it  was  rededicated  with  appro- 
priate ceremonies  and  the  present  inscriptions. 

The  farm  in  the  days  preceding  the  Revolution  was 
known  as  the  "Devoe  Farm,"  and  was  owned  by 
Frederick  Devoe.  "Yeoman,"  he  is  styled  in  the  early 
records.  Frederick  Devoe  was  a  Tory,  and  according 
to  tradition  piloted  the  British  troops  over  the  country 
roads  to  White  Plains  in  1776,  where  they  intrenched. 
For  this  offense  he  was  indicted  for  treason  Novem- 
ber 10,  1780,  and  judgment  was  declared  against  him 
July  5,  1783,  whereupon  his  farm  was  confiscated 
under  the  Confiscation  Act,  and  given  by  the  State 
of  New  York  to  Thomas  Paine.  Cheatham,  in  his 
*Life  of  Paine,'  says:  "The  farm  contained  more  than 
300  acres  of  land,  and  an  elegant  stone  house  120  x 
28  feet."  In  point  of  fact  the  farm  lacked  some 
twenty  acres  of  300,  and  the  house  was  far  from 
"elegant,"  being  a  small  stone  farmhouse  of  a  story 
and  a  half,  such  as  sheltered  the  yeomen  of  that  day. 
The  original  structure,  considerably  modified  and  im- 
proved, may  be  studied  in  the  farmhouse  which  we 
have  mentioned  as  standing  on  the  summit  of  the  hill 
to  the  eastward  of  the  monument. 

Calling  on  Mr.  Wesley  Lee,  the  then  proprietor, 
we  were  shown  the  parlor  which  Paine  occupied,  and 


Thomas  Paine's  Last  Home  145 

the  library  opening  out  of  it  in  which  he  wrote.  These 
have  been  Uttle  changed  from  the  time  of  the  author's 
occupancy.  "When  I  bought  it,"  said  Mr.  Lee,  "the 
only  relics  of  Paine  remaining  were  the  old  FrankKn 
stove  and  andirons  he  used;  the  stove  still  set  in  the 
brickwork  in  the  library.  These  I  let  Mr.  Walter  Bell, 
the  stove-dealer  in  New  Rochelle,  have  in  exchange 
for  a  modern  stove  and  appurtenances.  I  presume 
he  still  has  them." 

Returning  to  New  Rochelle,  we  called  on  Mr.  Bell, 
and  were  shown  the  stove,  which,  if  it  had  never  be- 
longed to  Paine,  would  still  possess  interest  as  being 
the  first  form  that  took  shape  in  the  inventor's  mind. 
It  is  composed  of  heavy  upright  and  horizontal  plates 
of  iron  held  in  place  by  grooves,  there  not  being  a  bolt 
or  rod  in  the  whole  fabric  —  a  sort  of  iron  box,  in  which, 
on  andirons,  the  fire  was  built.  Mr.  Bell  has  two 
affidavits  to  prove  that  the  stove  was  really  Paine's. 
One  is  from  Mr.  Lee,  stating  that  at  the  time  he  pur- 
chased the  property  there  was  a  Franklin  stove  set  in 
the  brickwork  of  the  room  on  the  northeast  comer  of 
the  house,  and  a  pair  of  andirons,  and  that  he  made 
inquiry  of  the  former  owners,  and  also  of  old  residents, 
and  from  information  thus  obtained  he  believed  them 
to  be  the  same  as  those  formerly  used  by  Thomas 
Paine.  The  other  is  from  Augustus  Van  Cortlandt, 
M.D.,  a  former  resident  of  New  Rochelle,  who  says 
that  "in  the  year  1841  he  was  taken  by  his  father  to 


146  In  Olde  New  York 

the  house  formerly  occupied  by  Thomas  Paine, 
author  of  the  *Age  of  Reason,'  *  Common  Sense,' 
and  the  'Rights  of  Man';  that  while  there  he 
was  shown  the  old  Franklin  stove  and  andirons, 
which  his  father  stated  were  seen  by  him  in  the 
year  1808,  when  he  presented  a  letter  to  Thomas 
Paine  personally  in  the  same  room  where  said  Frank- 
Un  stove  and  andirons  were,  and  that  from  the 
design  and  certain  marks  thereon  he  knows  them 
to  be  the  articles  shown  him  as  aforesaid,  and  that 
the  same  are  now  in  possession  of  Messrs.  Bell  and 
Harmer." 

"My  object  in  getting  these  aflSdavits,"  continued 
Mr.  Bell,  "was  to  prove  the  authenticity  of  the  reUcs, 
and  it  was  suggested  to  me  by  the  fact  that  on  my 
way  home  with  the  stove  I  met  a  man,  a  citizen  of  New 
Rochelle,  who  laughed  at  the  very  idea  that  I  had 
Paine's  stove  in  the  wagon.  Dr.  Van  Cortlandt  was 
a  member  of  the  old  Van  Cortlandt  family,  a  learned 
and  respectable  gentleman,  who  told  me  a  great  many 
things  about  Paine.  He  said  that  when  his  father 
called  on  the  latter  he  was  clad  in  a  dressing-gown 
that  had  evidently  been  made  of  a  blanket,  and  with  a 
beard  of  three  days'  growth  on  his  face.  A  deal  table 
stood  in  the  room,  without  a  cover,  on  which  was  a 
part  of  a  loaf  of  bread,  a  pitcher  of  milk,  and  a  bowl 
of  molasses,  from  which  his  breakfast  had  evidently 
been    furnished.     He   said    that   there   was    valuable 


Thomas  Paine 's  Last  Home  147 

furniture  and  bric-a-brac  in  the  room,  including  a 
fine  French  clock,  medals  given  to  Paine  by  various 
societies,  with  bronzes  and  medallions.  He  said  Paine 
once  made  a  model  of  an  iron  bridge  to  cross  the 
Hariem  River  at  a  single  span,  which  was  thought  a 
wonderful  thing  in  those  days.  The  only  other  relic 
of  Paine  now  in  New  Rochelle,  so  far  as  I  know,  is  an 
old  armchair  in  which  he  sat  during  his  frequent  calls 
on  his  neighbors,  the  Badeaus,  who  hved  nearly  oppo- 
site the  monument.  Mrs.  Badeau,  who  lived  to  be 
quite  aged,  always  spoke  of  Paine  with  the  greatest 
esteem  and  respect,  though  she  did  not  share  in  his 
religious  views.  He  had  a  love  for  Httle  children,  she 
said,  that  almost  amounted  to  a  passion,  and  was  in 
turn  a  great  favorite  with  them.  She  described  him 
as  pleasant  and  social  in  familiar  intercourse,,  with  a 
fund  of  anecdote  and  information,  on  which  he  was 
always  willing  to  draw  for  the  entertainment  of  his 
friends.  The  last  years  of  this  good  old  lady  were 
spent  in  protecting  the  grave  and  tombstone  of  her 
friend  from  the  attacks  of  curiosity  and  relic-hunters. 
Often  has  she  raised  her  window  and  frightened  off 
men  who  were  breaking  chips  from  edges  of  the  stone, 
to  be  preserved  as  rehcs.  She  saw  Cobbett's  men  when 
they  rifled  the  grave  in  1819,  and  warned  them  away, 
but  they  refused  to  go,  saying  they  were  acting  under 
Cobbett's  orders. 

"I  know  of  but  one  person  now  living  in  the  town 


148  In  Olde  New  York 

who  remembers  Paine.  That  person  is  Mrs.  Daven- 
port, a  very  aged  lady  living  on  Davenport's  Neck. 
She  says  that  Paine  often  patted  her  on  the  head  when 
she  was  a  little  girl." 


CHAPTER  XV 


THE  AMERICAN   BARBISON 


"D  ARBISON,  the  well-known  resort  of  so  many 
^^  French  artists  and  art-students,  where  Millet  and 
a  whole  colony  of  painters  have  found  inspiration  and 
subjects  worthy  of  their  pencils,  lies  in  the  heart  of  the 
ancient  forest  of  Fontainebleau,  at  an  easy  distance 
from  the  great  capital.  Easthampton,^  which  we 
have  ventured  to  call  the  American  Barbison,  is  a 
village  of  Puritan  origin,  situated  at  the  southeastern 
extremity  of  Long  Island,  in  a  little  oasis  of  meadows 
and  wheat-fields,  that  owes  some  portion  of  its  attract- 
iveness to  its  surroundings  of  sand  and  scrub.  Its 
one  wide  main  street  is  so  prodigal  of  land  that  it 
could  only  have  been  laid  out  by  men  with  a  continent 
at  their  disposal.  Great  elms  and  willows  overarch 
it,  and  beyond  their  vistas  the  eye  rests  on  the  broad 
bosom  of  the  Atlantic,  flecked  by  summer  sails.  North- 
ward one  looks  on  orchards  and  green  fields.  The 
dwellings  that  line  it  for  a  mile  please  by  their  endless 
variety.     There  is  the  quaint  old  Puritan  cottage,  with 

^  Written  in  1883.     Easthampton  is  now  a  fashionable  and  ex- 
clusive resort  and  the  conditions  here  pictured  no  longer  exist. 


150  In  Olde  New  York 

its  gables  facing  the  street,  and  flanked  by  the  wood- 
shed and  mossy  well-sweep  and  bucket.  There  are 
square,  roomy,  old-fashioned  farmhouses,  some  newly 
painted,  some  dingy  and  moss-covered,  with  low  stoops 
opening  directly  upon  the  street.  There  is  a  quaint 
old  village  aicademy,  the  first  opened  in  the  State. 
There  are  little  shops  that  nobody  knows  the  use  of, 
an  inn,  a  few  summer  villas,  a  fine  old  country-seat 
standing  remote  and  grand  behind  a  copse  of  maples 
and  cedars,  and  at  either  end  of  the  village  street  a 
windmill,  —  gaunt,  weather-beaten  structures,  that  at 
the  merest  suspicion  of  a  breeze  throw  their  long  arms 
as  wildly  and  creak  and  clatter  as  noisily  as  those  that 
Don  Quixote  attacked.  The  old  church,  built  in  1717, 
in  whose  turret  hung  a  bell  presented  by  Queen  Anne, 
—  one  of  the  historical  churches  of  the  land,  —  was 
pulled  down  in  1872,  its  demolition  marking  an  epoch 
in  the  town's  existence.  The  churchyard,  once  under 
the  wing  of  the  church,  is  now  set  lonesomely  in  the 
midst  of  the  main  street,  its  white  tombstones  looked 
down  upon  by  all  the  neighboring  dwellings  and  con- 
stantly reminding  the  villagers  of  the  virtues  of  their 
ancestors.  Still,  it  is  an  interesting  spot,  with  its  fence 
of  palings,  its  quaint  old-fashioned  stiles,  and  mossy 
stones,  whose  legends  tell  of  wrecks  upon  the  coast, 
and  of  brave  young  spirits  drowned  at  sea,  killed  by 
falling  from  the  masthead,  crushed  in  the  whale's 
jaws,  or  fever-stricken  and  buried  in  some  tropical 


^ 
cu 


§  s 

^     . 

^1 


J 


The  American  Barbison  151 

island.  In  a  place  so  remote,  it  is  natural  that  the 
quaintness  and  pastoral  simplicity  of  country  life  a 
hundred  years  ago  should  still  prevail.  At  sunset  and 
sunrise  herds  of  sleek,  matronly  cows,  with  barefoot 
boys  in  attendance,  wind  through  the  street;  scythes 
and  sickles  hang  in  the  willows  by  the  wayside;  and 
every  morning  the  mail-coach  rattles  into  the  village 
with  a  musical  flourish  of  the  driver's  horn,  stops  at 
the  post-office  for  the  mail-bag,  calls  all  along  the 
street  for  bags,  baskets,  and  parcels,  and  at  last  rumbles 
away  toward  the  railway  station,  seven  miles  distant. 
Most  truly  rural  are  the  orchard  farmyards,  which 
abut  upon  the  street  without  concealment,  in  front 
perhaps  set  thickly  with  apple-  and  pear-trees,  and 
behind  these  showing  open  spaces  covered  with  a  deep 
greensward,  with  cart,  plow,  stack,  wood-pile,  sheep, 
and  poultry  disposed  in  picturesque  confusion. 

Our  village,  in  its  two  hundred  years  of  existence, 
has  gathered  about  it  an  atmosphere  of  legend  and 
romance,  and  one  may  still  see  with  the  mind's  eye 
some  of  the  quaint  figures  and  striking  scenes  of  its 
early  history.  One  can  easily  call  up  Parson  James,  the 
first  minister  ("Gent."  he  is  styled  in  the  old  records), 
walking  to  church  in  wig  and  gown,  —  or  Mistress 
Abigail  Hedges  riding  down  on  her  wedding-day  to 
Sagg,  four  miles  distant,  and  on  the  way  counting 
thirteen  whales  sporting  in  the  surf.  An  excited 
throng    in   the  streets,  and  Parson  James  led   away 


15«  In  Olde  New  York 

under  arrest  to  New  York  for  denouncing  in  the 
pulpit  the  exorbitant  tax  levied  on  "whale's  oyle  and 
fins"  by  the  governor  of  the  colony;  a  detachment  of 
British  troops  in  possession  of  the  town,  and  Sir  William 
Erskine,  Governor  Tryon,  Lord  Percy,  Lord  Cathcart, 
Major  Andre,  in  brilliant  uniforms,  pacing  under  the 
village  elms;  the  old  Hunting  tavern,  in  which  the 
young  officers  made  merry  with  the  wits  and  roysterers 
of  the  village,  even  old  "Sharper"  the  slave  being 
admitted  to  add  his  shrewd  pleasantries  and  unequaled 
powers  of  mimicry  to  the  general  hilarity;  a  drawing- 
room  in  the  old  Gardiner  mansion,  with  Sir  Henry 
Clinton  present,  and  Andre  at  his  request  entertaining 
the  company  with  a  recital  of  his  sparkling  ballad  of 
"Chevy  Chase";  Parson  Beecher  on  a  Friday  hieing 
away  to  the  beaches  for  a  day's  shooting,  forgetting 
the  preparatory  lecture,  and,  when  reminded  by  the 
bell,  hurrying  to  the  church,  setting  down  his  gun  in 
the  porch,  and  preaching  in  his  hunting-suit  with  an 
unction  that  never  attended  his  written  sermons;  the 
old  parsonage,  and  the  parson  in  his  study  drawing 
strains  from  his  beloved  violin;  Madam  Beecher's 
pretty  girl-pupils  in  the  schoolroom  above  tapping 
their  little  feet  in  unison  with  the  music,  and  at  last 
breaking  into  the  forbidden  dancing  step,  causing  the 
violin  to  cease  with  a  doleful  screech;  a  low-ceijed 
kitchen,  with  deep  fireplace  and  smoky  walls,  in  which 
John   Howard   Payne   composed   the   song  that   has 


The  American  Barbison  153 

excelled  all  others  in  popularity,  and  wrote  love-letters 
to  one  of  the  village  maidens,  —  letters  still  preserved 
in  rose  and  lavender;  President  Tyler  riding  in  a  grand 
sort  of  way  up  the  street  to  woo  and  win  a  maiden  in 
one  of  the  village  mansions :  —  these  are  but  a  few 
of  the  old-time  scenes  that  pass  in  review  before  the 
eyes  of  the  dreamer  under  the  village  elms.  This 
charm  of  old  associations  combined  with  pastoral  sim- 
plicity is  evanescent,  and  will  soon  be  gone.  Already 
the  railroad,  rude  iconoclast,  is  approaching,  to  destroy 
the  relics  of  the  past  and  change  the  whole  aspect 
of  the  place.  The  limner,  therefore,  who  succeeds  in 
depicting  such  features  as  are  best  worth  preserving 
will  not  have  performed  an  unappreciated  task. 

The  summer  phase  of  the  village  is  almost  entirely 
artistic.  What  painter  first  discovered  it  is  a  subject 
for  speculation;  but  when  discovered  its  possibilities 
in  the  way  of  art  rapidly  became  known,  and  it  has 
been  for  several  years  the  summer  home  of  many 
favorites  of  the  public.  Last  season  the  little  colony 
of  artists  had  become  fairly  domiciled  by  the  1st  of 

July:  T in  a  cottage  on  the  main  street,  whose 

interior  and  antique  furniture  were  to  yield  inspiration 
for  several  studies  of  the  olden  time ;  "  Dante  "  and  his 
young  wife  in  the  old  village  academy,  which  had  long 
ceased  to  be  an  academic  haunt;  "the  Count"  and 
"the  Doctor"  in  sweet  proximity  to  a  confectioner's 
shop;  "Mozart"  at  the  inn;  and  the  others  scattered 


154  In  Olde  New  York 

about  in  the  boarding-houses  of  the  village.  Two 
sketching-classes  added  a  progressive  feature,  —  one 
comprising  several  ladies  of  the  Art  Students'  League 
of  New  York,  who  were  domiciled  at  first  in  a  cottage 
by  the  sea,  and,  later,  in  the  village  inn;  while  the 
other,  also  composed  of  ladies,  met  three  times  weekly 
in  the  former  schoolroom  of  the  academy.  Dante 
alone  achieved  a  studio.  It  was  on  the  upper  floor 
of  the  academy,  and  presented  a  medley  of  "studies," 
nets,  rusty  anchors,  spoils  of  the  sea,  flowers,  birds' 
nests,  and  trophies  won  from  the  village  houses,  — 
poke  bonnets,  stocks,  perukes,  faded  gowns,  arm- 
chairs, spinning-wheels,  and  other  ancient  furniture. 
This  became  a  favorite  gathering-place  with  members 
of  the  craft,  and,  during  the  summer,  witnessed  the 
reunions  of  many  long-sundered  friends.  Besides  the 
artists,  a  score  or  so  of  quiet  families  made  the  place 
their  summer  quarters;  but  its  characteristic  features 
remained  the  same,  —  in  every  quiet  nook  and  coigne 
of  vantage  an  artist  with  his  easel,  fair  maidens  trudg- 
ing afield  with  the  attendant  small  boy  bearing  easel, 
color-box,  and  other  impedimenta,  sketching-classes 
setting  out  in  great  farm-wagons  carpeted  with  straw, 
white-aproned  nurse-maids,  rosy  babies,  and  pleasure- 
vehicles  in  the  streets. 

The  routine  for  the  summer  was  tolerably  uniform. 
Out-door  work  was  usually  done  in  the  soft  light  and 
shade   of  early   morning  or  evening.     In-door  work 


The  American  Barbison  155 

occupied  a  part  of  the  intervening  hours  if  the  artist 
was  industrious.  At  eleven  there  was  a  gathering  on 
the  bathing-beach,  and  an  hour's  wild  sporting  with 
the  surges  of  the  Atlantic.  There  was  tennis  for  those 
who  cared  for  it,  straw-parties  and  sailing-parties, 
moonlight  rides  to  the  beach,  excursions  to  Sagg, 
Hardscrabble,  Pantago,  and  Amagansett.  The  students 
of  the  sketching-classes  were  the  most  industrious, 
wandering  about  the  village,  selecting  their  sub- 
jects, sketching,  painting,  and  returning  to  the  inn  at 
night  with  their  spoils.  Sometimes  the  great  carryall 
carried  them  out  to  Tyler's  for  a  day's  sketching. 
Arrived  there,  one  drew  the  quaint  old  dilapidated 
bam,  another  the  farmyard,  a  third  the  mossy  well- 
sweep,  a  fourth  the  crooked-necked  duck  leading  her 
brood  to  water,  a  fifth  the  grain-fields,  and  so  on,  till 
all  were  supplied  with  subjects.  At  intervals  the 
grave  professor  came  to  the  inn  and  passed  on  the 
students'  work  with  his  pungent  criticisms.  There 
was  a  large  wheat-field  on  the  southern  rim  of  the  town, 
neai;  the  sea,  that  attracted  many  visitors  and  gave 
rise  to  more  day-dreams  than  any  palace  of  the  genii. 
Its  black  mold  closed  on  the  white  sand  of  the  beach, 
and  there  was  little  interval  between  the  bearded 
wheat  and  the  coarse  bunchgrass  of  the  dunes.  It 
seemed  a  novel  sight,  this  strong  young  daughter  of 
the  West  drawing  life  and  nourishment  from  the 
grizzled  ocean.     Such  points  of  similarity  as  should 


156  In  Olde  New  York 

exist  between  sire  and  daughter  were  often  noted  by 
imaginative  visitors.  When  the  wind  blew,  there  were 
waves  in  the  wheat  as  well  as  in  the  sea;  argosies  of 
cloud-shadows  sailed  over  it,  and  it  never  lost  a  low, 
soft  murmur,  that  seemed  a  faint  refrain  of  the  vast 
monotone  of  the  sea.  What  weird  imaginations  and 
startling  effects,  to  be  elaborated  in  the  studio  on  the 
return  to  the  city,  were  suggested  by  it,  cannot  be  told. 
The  beach,  with  its  broad  reaches  of  sand  and  foaming 
surges,  its  wrecks,  sand-storms,  mirages,  soft  colors, 
and  long  line  of  sand  dunes  cut  into  every  variety  of 
fantastic  shape  by  the  winds,  was  equally  prolific  of 
wild  fancies. 

If  this  routine  became  at  all  prosaic  or  commonplace, 
it  was  soon  broken  by  some  ludicrous  incident  while 
at  the  easel,  —  the  unearthing  of  a  new  character,  or 
subjugation  of  a  refractory  model:  all  of  which  was 
sure  to  be  related  with  gusto  at  the  post-prandial 
re-unions  in  the  "bird's-nest." 

Wonderfully  numerous  and  varied  are  the  "charac- 
ters" of  the  village;  and  this  adds  largely  to  its  artistic 
value.  Old  farmers  with  their  homely  saws,  grizzled 
whalemen,  fishermen,  and  wreckers  and  life-saving 
men,  may  all  be  met  here.  There  are  "originals," 
indigenous  to  the  soil.  No  one  who  has  ever  sum- 
mered in  Barbison  will  forget  the  Remuslike  face  of 
Uncle  Pete,  the  childlike  and  bland  countenance  of 
"Old  Zeb,"  the  sly  twinkle  in  the  eye  of  Sam  Green, 


The  American  Barbison  157 

the  village  joker,  or  the  grim  smile  that  rests  on  the 
face  of  "  Old  Hominy "  in  the  midst  of  his  cutest  trick. 
To  give  a  perfect  idea  of  the  artistic  features  of  our 
village,  one  must  speak  somewhat  in  detail  of  the 
relations  of  the  artists  with  these  characters.  Uncle 
Pete,  the  village  octogenarian,  is  the  favorite  and 
most  troublesome  model.  The  old  man  lives  alone, 
in  a  little  bunk  of  a  cottage,  on  the  outskirts  of  Free- 
town, —  a  settlement  of  colored  people  about  a  mile 
north  of  the  village.  Having  made  five  whaling- 
voyages  in  his  youth.  Uncle  Pete  has  acquired  a  store 
of  reminiscences,  which  he  has  a  Remuslike  fondness 
for  retailing  to  his  numerous  callers.  His  tall,  almost 
majestic  figure,  and  black,  shrewd,  quizzical  face 
looking  out  from  a  mass  of  snow-white  wool,  tickle  the 
artistic  fancy,  and  his  lineaments  have  been  preserved 
on  more  canvases  than  those  of  the  most  popular 
model  in  the  Latin  quarter.  This  popularity  has  made 
him  extremely  coy  and  uncertain;  and  the  artist  who 
would  engage  him,  in  addition  to  the  offer  of  golden 
shekels,  must  often  have  recourse  to  personal  blandish- 
ments. The  old  man  generally  prefers  to  pose  in  the 
doorway  of  his  little  cottage:  for  ten  minutes  he  sits 
quietly,  and  his  outlines  begin  to  appear  under  the 
pencil;  then  he  grows  restless,  and  begins  to  fidget, 
whereupon  his  employer,  scenting  trouble,  blandly 
asks  for  a  story.  Uncle  Pete  readily  complies,  enter- 
taining  his   auditor  with   a   graphic   account   of   his 


158  In  Olde  New  York 

descent  into  the  whale's  jaws  once  upon  a  time  in 
Delagoa  Bay,  his  countenance  meanwhile  assuming 
an  animated  and  expressive  cast.  The  tale  concluded 
the  sitter  again  becomes  restless,  and  is  asked  for 
another  story,  which  he  readily  narrates.  A  third  or 
fourth  perhaps  will  be  required  before  the  sitting  is 
finished.  Old  Zeb,  another  model,  is  what  the  villagers 
call  a  "natural,'"'  although  he  has  wit  enough  to  gain  a 
Kving  without  much  labor.  He  is  a  great  favorite  with 
the  ladies,  and,  being  quite  susceptible,  has  made 
several  propositions  of  a  matrimonial  nature  to  engag- 
ing damsels  visiting  the  village,  which  are  understood 
to  be  under  consideration.  At  sunset  on  pleasant 
evenings,  when  his  fair  friends  are  sure  to  be  found 
on  the  front  porches,  Zeb  is  seen  wending  his  way 
through  the  street  with  a  rose  in  his  button-hole,  roses 
in  his  hand,  and  a  basket  on  his  arm.  The  ladies 
greet  him  graciously,  and  in  their  sweetest  tones  beg 
for  a  song.  Zeb  complies,  seated  on  the  ground, 
nursing  his  knees  with  his  hands,  and  chanting  in  a 
weird  monotone  some  hynm  or  ballad  of  the  olden  time. 
The  song  ended,  his  fair  patrons  bestow  small  coins, 
and,  murmuring  his  thanks  in  a  fine  feminine  voice, 
he  moves  on  to  another  coterie.  It  generally  happens, 
however,  that,  while  the  song  is  in  progress,  some 
deft  knight  of  the  brush  has  transferred  his  lineaments 
to  the  sketch-book  for  future  use.  Often  a  party  goes 
down  to  Zeb's  cottage  at  the  "  Harbor "  to  sketch  him 


The  American  Barbison  159 

at  his  weekly  "shave."  The  old  fellow  is  very  proud 
of  his  smoothly-shaven  face,  and  takes  great  pride  in 
its  preservation.  His  Saturaday  "shave"  is  a  marvel 
of  the  tonsorial  art.  While  it  is  in  progress  he  is  seated 
in  the  doorway  of  his  cottage,  with  a  little  hand  look- 
ing-glass before  him,  and  a  great  Mambrino's  helmet 
of  a  wash-hand-basin  filled  with  hot  water  by  his  side. 
His  razor,  "  borrerd  "  for  the  occasion,  has  been  through 
several  whaling- voyages.  Having  honed  it  on  the  door- 
sill,  he  assaults  his  stubby  beard  vigorously,  grubbing 
and  grubbing  with  an  expression  on  his  face  that  con- 
vulses the  spectators.  He  explains  "that  it  don't 
take  hold  well,  somehow,"  and  stops  to  sharpen  his 
instrument  on  the  grindstone.  The  entire  operation 
is  enlivened  by  a  running  fire  of  comments  and  queries 
from  the  spectators,  to  which  Zeb  returns  the  most 
amusing  and  innocent  replies.  Pat's  "childers"  are 
desirable  but  most  refractory  models.  There  are 
several  of  them  running  wild  about  the  street,  little 
Patseys  and  Bridgets,  red-haired,  freckled,  snub- 
nosed,  barefooted,  so  humorously  and  grimly  defiant  that 
they  tickle  the  artistic  fancy  and  are  much  coveted  as 
models.  Mrs.  Pat,  however,  when  approached  on  the 
subject,  discovers  a  feminine  quality  which  has  time 
and  again  brought  the  artist  into  difficulties.  "Be- 
gorra,"  she  declares,  "  ef  yez  artises  are  after  the  childer, 
it's  not  in  thim  dirty  clothes  they'll  be  tooken.  If  the'r 
picters  are  tooken  at  all,  it  must  be  in  the'r  Sundays 


160  In  Olde  New  York 

best."  This  is  entirely  inadmissible,  and  the  painter 
is  obliged  to  waylay  his  models  as  they  run,  and  induce 
them  to  sit  by  a  liberal  supply  of  taffy  and  pop-corn. 

An  old  weather-beaten  dwelling  at  the  upper  end 
of  the  village  street  has  been  so  often  sketched  and 
painted  that  it  is  a  witticism  of  the  guild  when  a  new 
artist  comes  to  town  that  Dominy's  is  going  onto  the 
canvas.  Its  clapboards  are  warped  by  over  a  century's 
exposure,  a  few  bricks  are  missing  from  the  chimney, 
some  of  the  window-panes  are  gone,  but  all  such  dis- 
figurements are  hidden  by  a  luxuriant  growth  of  climb- 
ing plants.  Two  workshops,  one  flanking  each  side 
of  the  cottage,  present  curious  interiors,  —  low  ceilings, 
dusty,  cobwebbed  windows,  tools  of  various  callings 
disposed  on  the  walls  or  in  cribs  in  the  ceiling,  and  a 
medley  of  articles  scattered  about, —  old-fashioned 
clocks  in  long  cases,  a  photographer's  camera,  a  Da- 
mascus blade,  with  gold-inlaid  hilt,  fashioned  into  a 
chisel,  nets,  spears,  lances,  harpoons,  and  similar 
paraphernalia.  In  this  dwelhng  lives  one  of  the 
marked  characters  of  the  village,  a  universal  genius, 
a  master  of  all  trades.  He  is  the  village  miller,  a  farmer, 
a  carpenter,  a  shipwright,  a  clock-maker,  a  tooth- 
puller,  a  photographer,  a  whaleman,  a  fisherman,  and 
an  office-holder.  With  the  artists  he  is  a  prime  favorite, 
and  generally  accompanies  them  as  courier  and  guide 
in  their  sketching-excursions,  whether  by  land  or 
water.     His  shop  is  a  favorite  lounging-place  of  the 


The  American  Barbison  161 

guild.  The  old  man  receives  his  visitors  with  a  queer 
mixture  of  fatherly  kindness,  assumed  carelessness, 
and  "chaff.'*  "You  fellers,"  he  observes,  "git  a  thou- 
sand dollars  in  York  for  a  picter  of  my  back  door,  and 
I  git  nothin'."  To  the  modest  request  for  leave  to 
paint  his  shop  he  replies  that  "there's  been  paint 
enough  wasted  on  it  a'ready  to  ha'  painted  it  inside 
and  out,"  but  gives  a  grudging  permission.  Some- 
times he  "fixes  it  up"  for  the  artist.  Sometimes  he 
poses;  again  it  is  his  dog  Jack,  the  ugliest  of  canines, 
or  his  boy  Zi,  that  is  in  request.  A  thousand  tales  of 
our  hero's  adventures  and  eccentricities  are  current  in 
the  studios,  in  not  a  few  of  which  the  narrators  were 
the  actors,  and  in  some  the  victims.  To  turn  the 
laugh  on  his  proteges  is  the  height  of  the  old  man's 
ambition:  not  infrequently  the  artist,  sketching  his 
shop,  on  returning  from  dinner  finds  every  article  in 
it  removed  to  a  different  position,  and  some  even  hung 
outside.  His  fishing-trip  to  Napeague  last  summer 
with  a  party  of  artists  is  embalmed  among  the  traditions 
of  the  colony.  Question  the  old  man  on  the  subject, 
and  his  only  reply  is  a  chuckle.  The  victims  when 
approached  manifest  extreme  reticence:  it  is  known, 
however,  that  they  caught  no  fish,  that  they  rowed 
instead  of  sailing,  owing  to  a  dead  calm,  and  that  re- 
turning they  reached  the  inn  at  one  in  the  morn- 
ing and  forced  a  surreptitious  entry  through  one 
of  its    windows,    the    grand    finale    discovering    the 


162  In  Olde  New  York 

hungry  tramps  in  a  fierce  attack  on  the  pies  of  the 
pantry. 

A  town  meeting  is  sure  to  bring  a  rich  harvest  of 
"studies"  into  the  village,  especially  if  the  questions 
to  be  discussed  are  of  a  broad  public  interest,  such, 
for  instance,  as  the  pasturage  of  cattle  in  the  village 
streets,  or  the  extension  of  farmlands  into  the  wide 
highway;  these  questions  concern  the  commonalty, 
and  there  is  a  general  hegira  of  the  male  portion  of  the 
outlying  districts  to  the  village.  They  come  on  foot, 
on  horseback  and  muleback,  in  buckboards  and  in 
great  farm-wagons  with  a  capacity  of  ten  or  more. 
Some  are  barefoot,  some  attired  only  in  check  shirt 
and  corduroys,  with  heavy  sombreros  for  head-gear. 
At  these  gatherings,  as  in  all  popular  assemblies,  the 
two  great  orders  —  patrician  and  plebeian  —  are  repre- 
sented; and  while  the  leaders  gather  in  the  old  town- 
hall  to  discuss  the  matter,  the  rank  and  file  are  deposed 
about  on  the  church  steps,  under  the  elms,  in  the  stores, 
smoking,  spitting,  lounging  in  a  thousand  picturesque 
attitudes.  From  this  repose  they  are  routed  by  their 
respective  leaders  and  hurried  into  the  hall  whenever 
a  vote  is  to  be  taken.  ' 

The  annual  spring  meet  on  Montauk  was  the  occa- 
sion of  another  influx  of  strangers  into  the  town. 
This  "meet"  was  held  usually  on  the  20th  of  June, 
to  enable  the  owners  to  select  from  the  herds  the  cattle 
intended  for  fattening,  which  were  then  turned  into 


The  American  Barbison  163 

the  fattening-fields.  Barbison  was  the  rendezvous  for 
the  "proprietors"  of  all  the  districts  to  the  westward, 
and,  as  they  came  riding  in  in  detachments,  but  for 
the  diverse  regimentals  one  might  have  fancied  that 
Andre's  regulars  had  reappeared  to  storm  the  town. 

No  features  of  Barbison  the  past  season  were  more 
pleasant  than  the  impromptu  receptions  —  artistic 
seances  in  the  best  sense  of  the  word  —  held  in  Dante's 
studio.  Artists,  scholars,  and  journalists  met  here  on 
common  ground.  The  discussions,  however,  were 
brilliant  rather  than  profound,  and  the  reminiscences 
generally  of  a  light  and  humorous  character.  Many 
of  them  detailed  the  ludicrous  incidents  and  adventures 

met  with  on  sketching-excursions.     H had  a  truly 

bucolic  experience.  He  was  in  a  wide  field,  putting 
in  the  sheep,  daisies,  and  a  particularly  fine  clump  of 
maples,  when,  as  he  had  nearly  finished  his  work,  he 
was  suddenly  prostrated  by  the  old  ram  of  the  flock, 
who  had  evidently  tired  of  the  artist's  presence  in  his 

demesnes.     H picked  himself  up,  and,  seeing  the 

ram  still  warlike,  made  a  quick  retreat  to  the  fence, 
which  he  succeeded  in  reaching  only  to  witness  Aries 
march  back  to  the  easel  and  trample  painting,  brushes, 

and  etceteras  into  the  dust.     C ,   while  walking 

along  a  country  lane  with  his  color-box  in  hand,  had 
met  a  native  who  took  him  for  a  spectacle-vender  and 
inquired  the  price  of  his  wares.  "I  am  out  of  spec- 
tacles," rephed  the  artist,  and  went  his  way.     Next 


164  In  Olde  New  York 

day,  returning  to  finish  his  sketch,  he  met  the  same 
man,  and  was  again  asked  the  price  of  "glasses." 
"The  fact  is,  friend,"  said  he,  "I  don't  sell  spectacles." 
—  "What  dew  yeou  sell,  then?"  queried  the  rustic. 
By  way  of  reply,  the  artist  opened  his  box  and  showed 
the  neatly-ranged  vials  of  color.  The  querist  gave 
but  a  look,  and  exclaimed,  in  inimitable  tones  of  dis- 
gust,    "Homepathy    doctor,     by    thunder!"    D 

called  at  a  farmhouse  one  morning  and  asked  per- 
mission to  make  a  picture  in  the  yard.  "Yes,  sir," 
replied  the  farmer;  "go  in.  The's  fifteen  in  there 
a'ready;  but  I  tell  'em  all  I  keer  for  is  a  drift- way." 

G claimed  the  honor  of  having  sketched  a  queen. 

She  was  scrubbing  the  floor  of  the  village  grocery  at 
the  time,  and  as  the  sketch  was  completed  a  negro 
lounged  in  with  the  news  that  King  Pharaoh  of  the 
Montauk  tribe  was  dead.  "That  makes  me  queen!" 
exclaimed  the  woman,  who  proved  to  be  the  old  king's 
widow;  and,  straightening  up,  she  discarded  mop  and 
brush  and  at  once  set  out  for  her  new  kingdom  amid 
the  wastes  of  Montauk. 

Such  is  Barbison  in  summer.  As  the  season  ad- 
vances, however,  its  aspect  rapidly  changes.  Visitors 
depart  with  the  first  chill  winds  of  autumn.  The 
forests  of  scrub  take  on  their  autumnal  tints,  the  grass 
withers,  loads  of  golden  com  and  rich-yellow  pumpkins 
rattle  up  to  the  farmhouse  doors.  The  life-saving 
men  leave  their  snug  homes  in  the  village  and  take 


The  American  Barbison  165 

their  places  in  the  stations,  which  are  opened,  warmed, 
and  furnished  in  readiness  for  the  possible  shipwrecked 
mariner.  Every  night  the  patrols  keep  their  lonely 
vigils  along  shore.  By  and  by  it  is  seen  that  a  storm 
is  imminent :  the  sun  sets  behind  a  mass  of  gray,  watery 
vapor,  the  ocean  chafes,  a  strong  wind,  damp  and 
rheumy,  comes  murmuring  up  from  the  southeast. 
At  midnight,  perhaps,  the  tempest  breaks,  howling 
down  the  chimneys,  rattling  the  panes,  swaying  the 
little  willows  till  they  snap  like  a  farmer's  whip,  and 
sending  great  waves  up  the  beach  to  the  base  of  the 
sand-dunes.  Not  infrequently  on  such  nights  the 
villagers  are  startled  by  the  booming  of  a  gun,  telling 
that  a  wreck  is  on  the  bar. 

In  old  times  this  was  a  signal  for  the  most  active 
preparations.  The  church  bell  was  rung  and  a  great 
horn  blown  to  rally  the  surfmen  to  the  beach.  The 
housewives  built  fires,  made  coffee,  and  prepared 
stores  of  lint,  comfortables,  and  flannels.  If  the  surf 
permitted,  the  men  rowed  out  to  the  ship  and  rescued 
the  shipwrecked  seamen,  who  were  brought  half  dead 
to  the  village  homes  and  tenderly  cared  for;  but  too 
often  this  was  impossible,  and  windrows  of  dead  bodies 
were  gathered  on  the  beach  in  the  morning  and  laid 
stark  and  stiff  in  the  coroner's  office  to  be  prepared  for 
burial.  As  might  be  expected,  some  grewsome  tales 
of  the  sea  are  to  be  heard  in  the  village.  A  storm  or 
wreck  brings  out  a  flood  of  such  reminiscences.     There 


166  In  Olde  New  York 

are  stories  of  similar  incidents,  of  pirates  and  hidden 
treasures,  of  false  lights  set  on  the  headlands;  but  quite 
as  often  the  tales  turn  on  wreckage  and  the  flotsam 
and  jetsam  of  the  sea, —  how  a  stately  East-Indiaman 
would  lay  her  ribs  on  the  beach  and  spill  her  precious 
cargo  of  silks,  cashmeres,  pearls,  teas,  spices,  and 
sandal-wood  in  the  surf,  a  part  of  it,  at  least,  to  be 
gathered  up  by  the  daring  wreckers.  When  a  full- 
freighted  whaleman  came  ashore,  great  cakes  of  pure 
white  spermaceti  were  thrown  far  up  the  strand,  and 
the  whole  country-side  hurried  to  the  scene  with  carts, 
wagons,  sledges,  and  hand-barrows,  to  remove  the 
precious  product  before  it  should  melt.  Sometimes 
it  was  coals  from  a  lumbering  collier  that  the  men 
gathered  up,  sometimes  lumber  from  a  Maine  bark, 
and  again  the  ivory  and  gold-dust  of  Africa. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

AN  EASTHAMPTON  CHURCHYARD   IN  THE  EIGHTIES 

ONE  who  has  had  occasion  to  visit  many  rural 
churchyards  must  surely  have  been  impressed 
by  the  great  number  of  eminent  Americans  entombed 
in  them.  In  the  old  world  one  seeks  the  tombs  of  the 
great  beneath  the  most  magnificent  fanes,  but  our 
great  men  seem  to  have  preferred  rural  soUtudes  for 
their  last  long  sleep.  There  is  an  old  unpretentious 
burial-ground  in  Litchfield,  Connecticut,  filled  with 
quaint  tombstsones  of  slate  or  sandstone  so  mossy  and 
old  that  one  with  difficulty  deciphers  the  names  in- 
scribed upon  them;  yet  to  write  the  biographies  of  the 
sleepers  beneath  them  would  be  to  write  the  history  of 
the  American  nation  itself.  There  is  another  at  Leba- 
non, Connecticut,  one  at  Quincy,  Massachusetts,  a 
fourth  at  Northampton,  Massachusetts. 

This  old  churchyard  at  Easthampton  may  be  cited 
in  support  of  the  argument.  It  lies  at  the  foot  of  the 
broad  village  main  street,  an  arm  of  which  encompasses 
either  side.  Its  older  stones  date  back  to  1696  or 
earlier,  and  were  imported  from  England,  as  the  flying 


168  In  Olde  New  York 

cherub,  or  death's  head  and  scroll  sculptured  at  the 
head  attest. 

Without  doubt  the  oldest  grave  here  is  that  of  Lyon 
Gardiner,  first  lord  of  the  manor  of  Gardiner's  Island. 
His  tomb,  however,  is  new,  having  been  erected  a  few 
years  ago  by  his  descendants.  It  is  of  pleasing  and 
impressive  design,  a  knight  in  complete  armor  laid 
upon  a  sarcophagus  that  rests  in  a  Httle  gothic  temple 
of  white  marble.  The  inscription,  covering  all  four 
sides  of  the  tomb,  will  serve  to  show  the  flavor  of  an- 
tiquity possessed  by  our  churchyard: 

"In  memory  of  Lion  Gardiner,  an  oflScer  of  the 
English  army,  and  an  engineer  and  master  of  Works 
of  Fortification  in  ye  Leaguers  of  ye  Prince  of  Orange 
in  ye  Low  Countries  in  1635.  He  came  to  New  Eng- 
land in  ye  service  of  ye  Company  of  Lords  and  Gentle- 
men. He  builded  and  commanded  ye  Saybrook  Forte. 
After  accomplishing  his  term  of  service  he  removed  in 
1663,  to  his  island  of  which  he  was  sole  owner  and 
ruler.  Born  in  1599  he  died  in  this  town  in  1663 
venerated  and  honored." 

A  little  south  of  the  Gardiner  tomb,  and  near  the 
center  of  the  churchyard,  is  a  stone  facing  a  different 
way  from  its  neighbors  and  bearing  this  inscription: 

"Mr.  Thomas  James  dyed  ye  6th  day  of  June  in 
ye  yeare  1696.  He  was  Minister  of  the  Gospel  and 
Pastore  of  the  Church  of  Christ." 

Parson  James  was  the  first  pastor  of  the  church  at 


Easthampton  Churchyard  169 

Easthampton  and  served  in  that  capacity  over  fifty 
years.  Tradition  represents  him  as  having  been  small 
in  stature,  sprightly  and  undaunted  in  step  and  bear- 
ing, and  very  conscientious  in  the  discharge  of  his 
pastoral  duties.  That  he  might  the  better  convert 
the  Indians  who  formed  part  of  his  parish,  it  is  said 
that  he  learned  their  language. 

The  fiber  of  the  man  is  shown  by  his  dying  injunc- 
tion, which  was  that  he  should  be  buried  in  a  diiferent 
direction  from  his  congregation,  that  on  the  resurrec- 
tion mom  he  might  arise  facing  his  accusers  (should 
any  impeach  him  as  a  pastor),  as  well  as  those  who 
had  laughed  to  scorn  his  warnings  and  entreaties. 
His  last  wish  was  complied  with,  as  is  seen  by  the 
position  of  the  grave. 

His  neighbor  is  the  Rev.  Samuel  Buell,  D.D.,  also 
pastor  of  the  Easthampton  church  for  over  half  a  cen- 
tury. The  inscription  on  the  heavy,  brown-stone  slab 
above  his  grave  is  so  similar  in  style  to  that  written 
by  President  Dwight  for  the  tomb  of  General  Israel 
Putnam  that  I  hazard  the  conjecture  that  they  were 
written  by  the  same  hand.  Perhaps  some  of  your 
readers  can  speak  definitely  on  the  subject.  It  is  as 
follows :  "  Reader,  behold  this  tomb  with  reverence  and 
regret.  Here  lie  the  remains  of  that  eminent  servant 
of  Christ,  the  Rev.  Samuel  Buell,  D.D.,  fifty-three 
years  pastor  of  the  church  in  this  place.  He  was  a 
faithful  and  successful  minister  of  the  gospel,  a  kind 


170  In  Olde  New  York 

relative,  a  true  friend,  a  good  patriot,  an  honest  man 
and  an  exemplary  Christian,  was  bom  Sept.  1,  1716, 
died  in  peace  July  19,  1798,  aged  eighty-two  years. 

"They  that  turn  many  to  righteousness  shall  shine 
as  the  brightness  of  the  firmament  and  the  stars  for- 
ever and  ever. 

"Remember  them  who  have  spoken  unto  you  the 
word  of  God,  whose  faith  follow,  considering  the  end 
of  their  conversation." 

Dr.  Buell's  term  covered  the  perilous  times  of  the 
revolution,  and  not  a  little  of  the  immunity  his  parish- 
ioners enjoyed  during  the  British  occupancy  of  the 
island  they  owed  to  the  doctor's  influence  over  the 
EngHsh  commander.  Sir  William  Erskine,  with  whom 
he  was  a  great  favorite.  Tradition  says  that  on  one 
occasion  Sir  William  ordered  a  number  of  the  farmers 
of  Easthampton  to  go  to  Southampton  to  perform  a 
certain  work  on  the  Sabbath. 

In  the  interim  he  met  the  divine  and  told  him  that 
he  had  ordered  out  his  parishioners  on  Sunday. 

"I  am  aware  of  it,"  said  the  doctor,  "but  am  myself 
commander-in-chief  on  that  day,  and  have  counter- 
manded the  order."  It  is  said  that  Erskine,  with  a 
good-humored  laugh,  yielded  the  point. 

Another  anecdote  is  thus  related :  The  young  oflicers 
of  Erskine's  staff  were  fond  of  the  chase,  and  Dr. 
Buell,  who  was  something  of  a  Nimrod,  not  infre- 
quently joined  them.     On  one  occasion  he  was  late. 


Easthampton  Churchyard  171 

and  the  party  had  mounted  when  he  arrived,  but  Sir 
William  asked  them  to  dismount  and  receive  his 
guest.  Lord  Percy,  Erskine's  aide,  later  Duke  of 
Northumberland,  was  impatiently  pacing  the  floor 
when  he  was  introduced  to  the  doctor,  who  asked  him 
civilly  what  part  of  his  majesty's  forces  he  had  the 
honor  to  command. 

"A  legion  of  devils  fresh  from  hell,"  replied  Percy, 
who  was  nettled  at  the  delay.  "Then,"  said  the 
doctor  with  his  most  stately  bow,  "I  suppose  I  have 
the  honor  of  addressing  Beelzebub,  prince  of  devils." 

Percy  laid  his  hand  on  his  sword  but  was  checked 
by  Erskine,  and  during  the  ride  that  followed  the  divine 
paid  such  marked  attention  to  the  young  officer  and 
was  so  witty  and  agreeable  that  he  won  his  regard  and 
admiration. 

The  Mulford  family  gravestone  reminds  us  that 
Easthampton  was  a  pure  republic  for  some  years 
after  its  settlement,  perhaps  the  purest  ever  known. 
We  may  be  pardoned  for  dwelling  on  the  fact  since, 
unless  we  are  greatly  mistaken,  it  has  wholly  escaped 
the  notice  of  political  students. 

Government  was  by  town  meeting  —  the  general 
court  —  and  by  an  inferior  court  called  the  "  court  of 
the  three  men."  The  town  meeting  was  the  supreme 
body:  it  constituted  courts,  tried  important  causes, 
heard  appeals,  chose  the  minister  and  schoolmaster, 
fixed  their  salaries,  made  police  regulations,  admitted 


172  In  Olde  New  York 

or  excluded  settlers,  licensed  taverns,  opened  high- 
ways, chose  military  oflScers  and  the  whale  watch,  and 
did  what  our  lawmakers  ought  at  once  to  do,  fined  all 
freemen  who  refused  or  neglected  to  vote,  to  attend 
town  meeting,  or  to  hold  ofiice  when  elected. 

The  court  of  the  three  men  heard  minor  cases  and 
executed  the  laws,  and  in  general  carried  on  the  affairs 
of  the  town  when  the  general  court  was  not  in  session. 
The  executive  officer  was  the  constable  who  presided 
at  the  town  meetings  and  executed  the  commands  of 
both  courts.  The  inferior  court  met  at  8  a.m.,  on  the 
second  day  of  the  first  week  of  every  month  for  the 
trial  of  cases. 

Easthampton  maintained  this  independent  condition 
for  seven  years,  or  until  1657,  when  she  united  with 
the  Connecticut  colony. 

One  of  the  first  justices  of  the  inferior  court  was  John 
Mulford,  who  lies  buried  in  the  old  churchyard.  His 
eldest  son,  Samuel  Mulford,  also  rests  here,  a  man 
well  worthy  to  rank  with  those  whose  iron  wills  and 
stem  courage  gained  their  country's  liberties.  He  was 
the  leader  of  the  people's  party  in  the  Ninth  Assembly 
of  New  York  during  Governor  Burnet's  contest  with 
that  body  from  1715  to  1722. 

For  one  of  his  speeches  Burnet  had  him  indicted 
and  prosecuted  for  sedition.  Mulford,  however,  was 
nowise  daunted  by  this  experience.  Burnet  had  laid 
a  tax  of  one  tenth  on  all  the  oil  taken  by  the  whaling 


Easthampton  Churchyard  173 

crews  of  Easthampton  and  Southampton  —  Mulford's 
constituents  —  which  he  claimed  as  a  perquisite. 
Mulford  determined  to  go  to  England  and  memo- 
rialize Parliament  for  the  removal  of  this  tax.  He 
sailed  to  Newport  secretly,  walked  to  Boston  and 
took  ship  for  England,  and  read  his  memorial  before 
the  House  of  Commons,  which  ordered  the  tax  dis- 
continued. 

Returning  in  triumph,  he  was  greeted  with  songs 
and  rejoicings  by  his  constituents,  and  was  promptly 
returned  by  them  to  the  Assembly.  Expelled  by  that 
body,  which  was  wholly  subservient  to  the  Governor, 
he  was  reelected  and  in  the  autumn  of  1717  took  his 
seat  in  the  House,  being  then  seventy-three  years  of 
age. 

In  1720  he  refused  to  act  with  the  House  of  that 
year,  which  he  claimed  had  been  illegally  elected  and 
organized,  and  was  again  expelled.  This  ended  his 
public  service.  He  died  at  Easthampton,  August  21, 
1725,  aged  nearly  eighty-one  years. 

Another  stone  commemorates  Reuben  Bromley,  a 
successful  sea  captain  who  retired  from  the  sea  in 
middle  life  to  "  actively  engage  in  Christian  and  benevo- 
lent effort  for  promoting  the  welfare  of  seamen."  He 
was  an  officer  of  the  Seamen's  Bank  for  Savings  from 
its  founding  in  1829  to  his  death,  and  was  also,  it  is 
said,  one  of  the  founders  of  the  Sailor's  Snug  Harbor 
on  Staten  Island. 


174  In  Olde  New  York 

A  plain  dark  monument  in  the  Gardiner  plot  tells 
its  own  story  in  these  words : 

"David  Gardiner,  bom  May  29,  1784. 
Died  February  28,  1844." 

"In  the  vigor  of  life,  adorned  by  eminent  virtues, 
solid  abilities  and  rare  accomplishments,  beloved  and 
venerated,  he  was  stricken  with  instant  death  by  the 
bursting  of  the  great  gun  on  board  of  the  steam  frigate 
Princeton  in  the  River  Potomac.  A  national  calamity 
which  wrung  men's  hearts  and  deprived  the  country 
of  some  of  its  most  distinguished  and  valuable  citizens." 

His  daughter,  Julia,  afterward  married  President 
John  Tyler,  and  became  the  mother  of  several  children, 
one  of  whom  sleeps  near  his  grandfather  after  crowding 
into  his  brief  span  of  forty  years  such  perils,  hardships, 
vicissitudes,  and  misfortunes  as  few  are  called  upon  to 
undergo.     His  epitaph  reads: 

"Here  lyeth  John  Alexander  Tyler,  son  of  John 
Tyler,  President  of  the  United  States,  and  of  Julia 
Gardiner,  his  wife,  bom  at  Sherwood  Forest,  James 
River,  Virginia,  April  7,  1848,  died  at  Santa  Fe,  New 
Mexico,  September  1,  1888." 

"Alexander  Tyler  while  a  mere  youth  joined  the 
fortunes  of  his  native  State,  and  became  a  member  of 
the  First  Virginia  Battalion  of  Artillery  under  General 
Robert  Lee.  Although  enduring  great  privation  and 
hardship,  which  he  bore  with  uncomplaining  fortitude, 


Easthampton  Churchyard  175 

he  served  until  the  close  of  the  Civil  War,  and  was  then 
paroled  at  Appomattox  Court  House  in  1865.  He 
went  to  Europe  where  he  remained  for  eight  years, 
first  as  a  student  at  Carlsruhe,  Baden,  afterwards  at 
Freiburg,  Saxony,  where  he  graduated  as  a  mining 
and  civil  engineer.  While  at  the  latter  place  he  entered 
the  German  army  by  special  permit  as  a  volunteer  in 
the  First  Uhlan  regiment  under  the  command  of 
Prince  John  of  Saxony,  and  was  actively  engaged 
during  the  French  and  Prussian  wars  of  1870-71,  re- 
ceiving at  the  close  a  decoration  from  the  hands  of  the 
Emperor  William  I,  for  gallant  and  distinguished 
services." 

This  gentleman,  after  serving  with  honor  through 
two  sanguinary  wars,  returned  to  his  native  country 
only  to  die  suddenly  of  a  fever  contracted  in  New 
Mexico  while  performing  the  duties  of  his  profession 
as  a  mining  and  civil  engineer. 

A  mild  literary  interest  attaches  to  a  row  of  six  or 
eight  mossy  headstones  near  the  center  of  the  yard, 
those  of  the  Isaacs  family,  father,  mother,  brothers 
and  sisters  of  John  Howard  Paj^ne. 

What  might  be  called  the  wreck  annals  of  the  church- 
yard are  interesting.  Here  lie  the  remains  of  those 
who  perished  in  the  off-shore  whale  fishery,  which  was 
prosecuted  with  vigor  by  the  townsmen  for  years. 
"On  February  24,  1719,"  we  read,  "a  whaleboat  being 
alone  the  men  struck  a  whale,  and  she  coming  under 


176  In  Olde  New  York 

the  boat  in  passing,  stoved  it,  and  though  ye  men  were 
not  hurt  with  ye  whale,  yet  before  any  help  came  to 
them  four  men  tired  and  chilled  and  fell  off  ye  boat 
and  oars  to  which  they  hung  and  were  drowned." 

Here  also  repose  the  hundreds  who  have  been 
wrecked  upon  this  dangerous  coast  since  commerce 
began  in  these  waters  nearly  three  hundred  years  ago. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE  WRECK  OF  THE  JOHN  MILTON 

A  LTHOUGH  the  Milton  struck  on  Montauk, 
-^^-  data  of  the  tragedy  can  only  be  gained  in  the  old 
churchyard  of  Easthampton,  and  in  the  village  itself.* 
Entering  the  yard  from  the  north,  the  first  memorial 
introduces  one  of  its  peculiar  offices  —  that  of  custodian 
of  the  ocean's  trophies.  This  is  a  shaft  of  marble  in 
the  center  of  a  large  square  mound,  bearing  this  in- 
scription : 

"This  stone  was  erected  by  individual  subscriptions 
from  various  places  to  mark  the  spot  where,  with  pecul- 
iar solemnity,  were  deposited  the  mortal  remains  of 
the  three  mates  and  eighteen  of  the  crew  of  the  ship, 
John  Miltoriy  of  New  Bedford,  wrecked  on  the  coast 
of  Montauk,  while  returning  from  the  Chincha  Islands, 
on  the  20th  February,  1858,  where,  together  with  those 
who  rest  beneath,  Ephraim  Harding,  the  captain,  and 
four  others  of  the  mariners,  being  the  whole  ship's 
company,  were  drowned  in  the  waves.  *Thy  way, 
O  God,  is  in  the  sea.'" 

After    searching    during    three    summers    up    and 

*  From  New  York  Evening  Post,  1890. 


178  In  Olde  New  York 

down  the  town,  I  succeeded  in  finding  an  old  wrecker 
who  had  been  first  at  the  wreck  of  the  Milton,  who 
gave  me  a  vivid  account  of  it,  and  of  the  pathetic  scenes 
attending  the  burial  of  the  drowned  seamen.  "That 
was  the  worst  wreck  on  the  coast  in  later  years,"  he 
began,  "that  of  the  Milton.  She  struck  on  a  rock  at 
Montauk,  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  shore,  in  a  heavy 
snow  storm.  She  was  flying  before  a  gale  at  the  time 
and  the  shock  was  terrible.  The  vessel  melted  under 
it  like  a  lump  of  sugar.  I  was  one  of  the  first  on  the 
spot.  The  shore  looked  like  a  wrecked  shipyard. 
But  for  the  breakers  you  could  have  walked  for  rods 
on  the  broken  masts,  spars,  and  timbers.  There  was 
the  mainmast,  four  foot  through,  snapped  off  like  a 
pipestem,  every  plank  made  into  kindling  wood,  and 
every  timber  torn  out  of  her.  Only  a  part  of  the  bow 
was  left  tossin'  and  crunchin'  on  the  rock  where  she 
struck.  The  shock,  you  see,  threw  the  anchors  over- 
board and  they  held  this  fragment  in  place.  But  the 
sight  of  all  was  the  dead  bodies  of  the  crew  stretched 
out  on  the  beach  all  frozen  stiff,  some  covered  with 
snow,  or  thrusting  up  a  hand  or  arm  above  the  drifts. 
Not  a  man  was  saved.  One  negro  must  have  come 
ashore  ahve,  for  he  had  dragged  himself  some  distance 
up  the  sands,  but  he  had  soon  frozen.  The  ship's 
log-book  came  ashore,  some  trinkets  and  furniture, 
and  that  was  all." 

I  did  not  need  the  words  of  my  informant  to  picture 


The  Wreck  of  the  John  Milton  179 

the  excitement  caused  by  this  disaster  through  all  the 
eastern  hamlets  of  the  island.  It  was  then  much  more 
than  now  a  maritime  community.  The  large  whaling 
marine  of  Sag  Harbor  had  been  largely  laid  aside, 
but  the  captains  and  crews  who  had  manned  it  were 
still  living.  Scores  of  wagons  streamed  out  over 
Montauk  to  the  scene  of  the  wreck,  returning  by  twos 
and  threes,  with  the  ghastly  burdens  which  the  sea  had 
relinquished.  Then  came  the  funeral.  It  is  evident 
from  the  impression  made  that  no  more  solemn  event 
ever  occurred  in  the  village.  The  generous  tars  gathered 
from  far  and  near  to  perform  the  last  sad  rites  to  their 
comrades.  Bluff,  hearty  old  sea  captains,  heroes  of  a 
score  of  voyages,  old  salts  tanned  by  the  suns  of  every 
clime,  youngsters  home  from  the  first  voyage,  farmers, 
merchants,  sympathetic  women,  came  from  all  the 
Hamptons  and  all  the  Harbors  —  from  Sagg  and 
Jericho,  from  Egypt,  Pantago,  the  Springs,  the  Fire- 
place —  as  far  west  as  to  Quogue  and  the  Manor, 
quite  filling  the  old  church,  about  whose  altar  the 
coffins  had  been  disposed.  They  preserve  old  things 
in  Easthampton,  and  so  I  succeeded  in  finding  the 
sermon  which  the  Rev.  Stephen  L.  Mershon  preached 
on  the  occasion.  His  text  was  Job  xxvii.  20,  21. 
Then  in  the  presence  of  the  dead  and  the  awestruck 
living  he  enunciated  these  sentences: 

"  It  is  a  solemn  providence  that  has  called  us  together. 
We  have  come  to  pay  our  last  tribute  of  respect  to  the 


180  In  Olde  New  York 

dead.  But  how  unlike  our  usual  assembling  to  cele- 
brate these  sad  rites.  It  is  not  the  member  of  our 
community  whose  name  has  often  sounded  in  our 
ears;  it  is  not  the  long-known  friend,  it  is  not  the 
relative,  not  the  dear  member  of  our  domestic  circle 
that  we  have  come  to  bury.  No,  we  have  come  to  bury 
the  stranger.  No  father,  no  mother,  no  wife,  no  sister 
attends  this  burial  to  moisten  the  grave's  cold  earth 
with  their  tears.  .  .  .  But  strange  as  it  may  appear, 
singular  as  are  the  circumstances  that  now  surround 
us,  it  must  be  admitted  that  truly  does  a  peculiar 
solemnity  become  this  hour.  Each  one  must  feel  that 
God  is  speaking  the  language  that  tells  of  our  mortality 
in  terms  not  to  be  mistaken.  For  it  is  not  only  one, 
it  is  a  congregation  of  the  dead  whom  we  now  carry 
to  the  grave.  .  .  . 

"In  adverting  to  the  circumstances  that  have  called 
us  together  let  us  not  anticipate.  On  the  morning  of 
December  6,  1856,  we  learn  that  the  John  Milton  was 
lying,  a  noble  vessel  of  1445  tons,  in  the  harbor  of  New 
York.  That  day  was  her  broad  canvas  spread,  that 
like  a  winged  bird  of  the  ocean  she  might  speed  her 
course  to  distant  seas.  .  .  .  Five  months  from  that 
day  her  anchor  was  cast  in  the  harbor  of  San  Francisco. 
Here,  because  of  mutiny,  thirteen  of  her  crew  were  put 
ashore,  and  as  many  more  were  shipped.  But  soon 
again  was  the  noble  clipper  released,  and  the  day  dawn 
of  August  10,  1857,  brought  them  into  the  port  of 


The  Wreck  of  the  John  Milton  181 

Callao.  Not  long  did  she  rest,  for  in  about  two  weeks 
we  find  her  moored  at  the  Chincha  Islands.  From 
thence  her  course  was  homeward.  On  the  14th  of  the 
present  month  (February)  she  anchored  in  Hampton 
Roads,  waiting  orders  from  her  owners.  On  the  16th, 
but  twelve  short  days  since,  the  crew  again  spread  the 
canvas  of  their  gallant  vessel.  With  light  and  favor- 
able breezes  they  put  to  sea,  hoping  soon  to  be  in  the 
harbor  of  their  home.  Bright  visions  of  home,  of  hap- 
piness, of  friends,  were  doubtless  flitting  across  the 
brain  and  playing  sportively  with  them  in  their  dreams. 
Homeward  they  were  bound.  But  no;  a  hand  that 
now  lies  powerless  soon  recorded,  on  the  17th,  on 
Wednesday  morning,  *  strong  winds,  double  reef  top- 
sails, latter  part  strong  winds  and  thick  snow  storm.' 
From  that  hour  they  rode  upon  the  sea  where  the  storm- 
king  was  in  the  ascendant.  Dark  and  gloomy  must 
have  been  the  nights  that  followed.  All  clouded  was 
the  sky.  They  knew  not  where  they  were.  No  eye, 
no  glass  could  pierce  the  atmosphere;  for  on  the  morn- 
ing of  the  18th,  on  Thursday,  the  last  entry  but  one  in 
the  log-book  tells  us  that  strong  gales  are  still  prevail- 
ing and  thick  snow.  The  last  entry  is  on  that  same 
day:  *  Latter  part  more  moderate,  and  turned  reefs 
out';  when  by  observation  they  found  themselves  in 
the  latitude  of  36  deg.  56  min.  —  in  the  exact  latitude 
of  Cape  May,  at  the  southern  extremity  of  the  State 
of  New  Jersey.  .  .  . 


182  In  Olde  New  York 

"  No  longer  have  we  any  witness  to  tell  their  course, 
other  than  the  gale  that  came  with  them  upon  the 
land.  From  Wednesday  afternoon  till  Saturday  we 
know  that  they  rode  upon  the  waves  of  the  storm 
enveloped  with  falling  snow.  .  .  Friday  was  a  day  of 
terror.  Such  fear  and  terror  were  in  the  crew  that  the 
log-book  was  forgotten.  The  night  that  followed  was 
the  night  of  the  landward  tempest  that  burst  upon  our 
shore  at  the  opening  of  day  from  the  sea.  Our  ship 
was  flying  before  its  first  and  heaviest  gale.  The  wind 
of  that  tempest  was  the  east  wind.  By  it  they  were 
carried  away,  by  it  they  had  departed  from  those  deep 
channels  of  the  ocean  where  the  strong  oak-timbered 
vessel  could  long  have  safely  defied  the  fury  of  the 
gale.  As  the  morning  of  Saturday  opened  upon  them, 
and  as  all  eyes  were  straining  to  catch  some  glimpses 
of  the  sun,  the  hand  that  moved  in  the  storm  hurled 
them  upon  the  rocks  of  our  shore.  The  work  was 
done.  It  was  but  the  deed  of  a  moment.  Masts, 
spars,  sails,  oflBcers,  and  crew  were  all  in  one  confused 
mass.  The  John  Milton  was  no  longer  a  monarch 
upon  the  sea.  The  ruins  of  her  crown  lay  in  wild 
confusion  at  the  feet  of  her  throne." 

The  bodies  of  the  drowned  were  deposited  in  a  com- 
mon grave  in  the  old  churchyard  here,  and  the  people 
of  the  various  towns  contributed  funds  for  the  erection 
of  this  monument  to  their  memory. 

The  above  is  only  one  of  the  many  like  tragedies 


The  Wreck  of  the  John  Milton  183 

that  the  old  churchyard  covers.  At  the  foot  of  the 
shaft  to  the  Miltcm's  crew,  on  the  west,  are  thirteen 
grassy  graves,  all,  save  one,  marked  by  wooden  head- 
boards. They  cover  the  victims  of  the  wreck  of  the 
Circassian  in  1877,  not  members  of  the  ship's  com- 
pany, but  of  the  wrecking  crew  who  were  engaged  at 
the  time  upon  her,  and  who  were  overwhelmed  with 
the  vessel  by  a  sudden  storm.  There  is  a  possible 
romance  in  this  group  of  graves.  One  of  them  is 
distinguished  from  its  companions  by  a  fine  marble 
headstone  which  bears  this  description:  "In  loving 
remembrance  of  Andrew  Allan  Nodder,  se.  seventeen 
years,  son  of  Richard  and  Mary  Nodder,  of  Wanstree, 
near  Liverpool,  England.  His  young  life  was  lost  at 
the  wreck  of  the  Circassiariy  December  29,  1877." 
The  dreamer  among  the  graves  is  apt  to  query  why 
this  son  of  wealthy  well-born  parents  came  to  end  his 
life  as  a  member  of  a  coast- wrecking  crew.' 

^  Nodder,  we  have  since  been  informed,  was  an  apprentice  belong- 
ing to  the  ship's  crew. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 


KING    PHARAOH  S    WIDOW 


FROM  the  green  hilltop  where  I  write,  July  25, 
1882,  can  be  seen  across  the  downs  two  brown 
weather-beaten  cottages,  nestled  at  the  base  of  a  range 
of  hills  which  skirt  the  blue  line  of  the  Sound.  These 
cottages  shelter  eleven  souls,  the  last  remnants  of  the 
once  proud  tribe  of  Montaukett.  In  one  dwells  Queen 
Maria,  widow  of  the  last  King,  David  Pharaoh,  with 
her  seven  children,  and  in  the  other  Charles  Fowler, 
with  his  wife  and  child.  Enter  these  dwellings  and 
you  find  them  bare  and  cheerless,  with  no  carpets  on 
the  floor  and  only  the  rudest  articles  in  the  way  of  furni- 
ture. The  inmates  are  idle,  ignorant,  dissipated,  none 
of  them  pure  Indian,  there  being  a  Hberal  intermixture 
of  negro  blood.  They  live  from  hand  to  mouth  by 
hunting,  fishing,  doing  odd  jobs  for  the  proprietor, 
and  on  the  proceeds  of  a  small  interest  in  the  land  of 
the  nature  of  a  usufruct.  Between  Wyandanch,  the 
first  King  of  Montauk  known  to  Europeans,  and  David 
Pharaoh,  the  last,  a  period  of  two  hundred  and  fifty 
years  intervened.  The  early  history  of  the  Montauketts 
has  been  told  in  the  books  and  need  not  be  dwelt  on  at 


King  Pharaoh's  Widow  185 

length  here.  They  were  the  ruling  tribe  of  Long 
Island  and  dwelt  in  a  fortified  village  on  Montauk. 
Wyandanch,  their  king,  espoused  the  cause  of  the 
English,  and  was  for  this  reason  hated  by  Ninicraft, 
the  powerful  sachem  of  the  Narragansetts,  who  de- 
clared war  against  him.  About  1656  Ninicraft  made 
a  descent  on  the  Montauketts  while  they  were  cele- 
brating the  nuptials  of  the  chief's  daughter,  burned 
their  villages,  slew  many  of  their  people,  and  took 
others  captive.  Two  years  later,  in  1658,  a  great 
pestilence  carried  off  many  of  the  remainder,  and 
Wyandanch  was  himself  slain  by  poison  administered 
by  a  follower.  This  is  no  doubt  familiar  to  the  reader. 
A  subject  little  touched  upon,  however,  is  their  later 
history  and  the  various  efforts  that  were  made,  under 
authority  of  the  London  Society  for  the  Propagation 
of  the  Christian  Religion  in  New  England,  to  educate 
and  Christianize  them.  The  spiritual  care  of  these 
Indians  was  at  first  entrusted  to  the  ministers  of  the 
church  at  Easthampton,  who  met  with  little  success 
in  their  efforts.  In  1741  the  Society  appointed  the 
Rev.  Azariah  Horton  as  a  missionary  to  the  Montauketts. 
This  devoted  clergyman  resided  among  them  for  several 
years,  learned  their  language  to  some  extent,  opened 
schools,  and  was  so  successful  that  he  led  them  to  re- 
nounce their  idolatry  and  adopt  the  Christian  religion. 
After  Mr.  Horton 's  departure  the  Society  pursued  the 
plan  of  sending  teachers  and  preachers  of  their  own 


186  In  Olde  New  York 

race  among  them.  Several  are  mentioned  in  the 
records  as  having  labored  here  with  more  or  less  suc- 
cess. By  far  the  most  distinguished  was  Sampson 
Occum,  a  member  of  the  Mohegan  tribe  of  Connecti- 
cut. Occum  was  bom  in  1723,  and  in  his  youth 
attracted  the  attention  of  Dr.  Eleazer  Wheelock,  of 
Lebanon,  who  placed  him  at  "Moor's  Indian  Charity- 
School"  at  Lebanon,  an  institution  under  the  patron- 
age of  the  Earl  of  Dartmouth,  and  which  was  later 
removed  to  Hanover  and  incorporated  as  Dartmouth 
College,  where  he  received  a  good  education  and  be- 
came a  Christian.  In  1755  Occum  opened  a  school 
on  Montauk,  and  preached  and  taught  there  until 
1761.  At  this  time  the  tribe  numbered  182  souls. 
After  him  came  several  Indian  teachers  and  preachers, 
the  last,  Paul  Cuffee,  a  Shinnecock  half-breed,  acting 
as  their  spiritual  teacher  until  a  comparatively  recent 
period.  They  also  were  cared  for  by  the  church  at 
Easthampton  during  this  period.  Dr.  Lyman  Beecher, 
while  pastor  there,  frequently  riding  across  the  wastes 
to  preach  to  the  Indians  at  Montauk.  The  result  of 
these  efforts  was  discouraging.  A  competent  observer, 
the  late  Mr.  David  Gardiner,  of  East  Hampton,  thus 
epitomizes  it:  "Some  of  them  learned  to  read  and  write, 
but  their  progress  in  knowledge  neither  ameliorated 
their  condition,  nor  divested  them  of  their  natural 
improvidence.  Their  thirst  for  the  liquid  fire  of  the 
white  man  continued,  with  scarcely  an  exception,  as 


King  Pharaoh's  Widow  187 

ardent  as  when  they  first  became  acquainted  with 
civilized  life,  and  the  domestic  comforts  of  the  hearth 
were  httle  enhanced  beyond  the  savage  state,  not- 
withstanding all  the  advantages  of  intercourse  with  a 
moral  and  religious  people,  disposed  to  treat  them  with 
sobriety  and  friendship.  The  efforts  in  this  case  for 
regenerating  the  Indian  character  were  certainly  a 
decided  failure,  and  may  be  added  to  the  thousand 
others  which  have  disappointed  the  hopes  of  the 
philanthropist. " 

Not  the  least  interesting  feature  of  Montauk  are  the 
relics  of  this  unfortunate  people  that  still  exist.  On  a 
high  hill  on  the  east  side  of  Fort  Pond  Bay  are  the 
well-defined  lines  of  a  fort  built  by  Wyandanch  after 
the  descent  of  the  Narragansetts.  It  was  about  100 
feet  square,  with  rampart  and  parapet  of  earth,  a  ditch 
at  the  foot  of  the  glacis,  and,  tradition  says,  was  pali- 
saded —  in  all,  a  quite  creditable  piece  of  military 
engineering.  About  half  a  mile  southeast  there  is  an 
ancient  Indian  burial-ground,  and  near  this  the  most 
celebrated  of  the  relics  of  Montauk  —  a  granite  stone 
on  whose  smooth  surface  is  the  deep  imprint  of  a  hu- 
man foot.  Had  some  wandering  Indian  stepped  upon 
the  granite  in  a  plastic  state,  the  impression  could  not 
have  been  more  perfect  and  distinct.  Two  other 
similar  prints  have  been  found  on  the  plateau,  and 
one  has  been  removed,  my  informant  thought,  by 
some  historical  society.     In  all  the  heel  of  the  foot  is 


188  In  Olde  New  York 

toward  the  east  and  the  toes  to  the  west  —  prophetic, 
perhaps,  of  the  westward  march  of  the  poor  Indian. 
There  is  no  legend  current  as  to  their  origin  except 
the  one  mentioned  below,  that  they  were  made  by  the 
foot  of  the  evil  spirit  in  his  flight.  The  Indians  held 
them  in  superstitious  awe,  and  frequent  pow-wows 
were  held  in  their  vicinity.  Another  curious  stone  is 
encountered  as  one  enters  upon  Montauk  —  a  granite 
rock,  smooth  and  flat,  upon  which  are  several  red 
marks  as  of  blood.  The  Indian  legend  says  that  they 
were  made  by  the  blood  of  a  chief  who  was  killed  there 
by  an  enemy's  arrow.  One  frequently  meets  little 
cavities  in  the  ground  in  his  rambles,  which  were 
once  deep  pits  where  Indian  com  was  stored.  In  the 
old  records  these  are  called  "Indian  bams."  In  high 
places  on  the  north  shore,  where  the  wind  has  re- 
moved the  sand,  chippings  of  white  flint  mark  the  site 
of  Indian  workshops  where  arrows,  spears,  and  toma- 
hawks were  chipped  into  form.  Heaps  of  shells  still 
mark  their  ancient  feasting  places,  and  their  weapons 
and  domestic  utensils  are  quite  frequently  picked  up 
on  the  shores  of  Fort  Pond  and  Great  Pond.  Per- 
haps the  most  thrilling  legend  that  haunts  Montauk 
is  that  of  the  raising  of  Mutcheshesumetook,  the  Evil 
One.  The  great  event  of  the  Indian  year  was  the 
stranding  of  a  whale  on  the  beach.  Its  flesh  furnished 
food,  its  oil  light,  its  hide  thongs,  its  bones  points  for 
weapons,  and  its  tail  or  fin,  roasted  in  the  fire,  was  the 


King  Pharaoh's  Widow  189 

most  acceptable  offering  that  could  be  made  to  Saw- 
wonnuntoh,  their  deity.  The  sacrifice  was  offered 
amid  the  whole  concourse  of  the  people,  with  feasts, 
dances,  yells,  and  incantations  on  the  part  of  the 
medicine-men  to  drive  off  the  Evil  One,  who  was  also 
known  to  regard  it  as  a  choice  tid-bit.  Now,  it  so 
happened  that  at  one  of  these  pow-wows  the  incanta- 
tions were  so  powerful  that  Mutcheshesumetook 
appeared  in  visible  form  and  was  pursued  westward 
by  the  whole  body  of  people.  In  his  flight  he  stepped 
on  the  granite  rock  of  which  I  have  spoken,  and  left 
the  impress  of  his  foot,  which  time  cannot  efface. 


CHAPTER  XIX 


AN    ISLAND    MANOR 


1^  EARLY  opposite  Easthampton  at  the  entrance 
-*-  ^  to  the  Sound  Ues  a  small  island  as  pecuKar  in  its 
social  and  political  history  as  in  its  physical  conforma- 
tion. It  is  known  as  Gardiner's  Island.  Once  it  was 
a  long  tongue  of  land  jutting  out  from  the  main  body 
of  the  island,  but  the  strong  currents  of  the  Atlantic 
have  eaten  away  the  connecting  portion,  leaving  an 
oval-shaped  mass  of  gravelly  hills  and  dales,  some 
seven  miles  in  circumference  and  containing  some 
thirty-three  hundred  acres.  Its  history  is  curious. 
Lion  Gardiner,  a  soldier  of  fortune  from  the  Low 
Countries,  bought  it  of  the  Indian  owners  in  1639. 
Shortly  afterward  he  received  a  patent  of  it  from  Lord 
Stirling,  for  which  he  paid  "a  little  more,"  and  agreed 
to  give  a  yearly  annuity  of  five  pounds,  if  demanded. 
In  1640  he  removed  to  the  island  with  his  young  wife 
and  child,  and,  dying  in  1663,  bequeathed  it  to  his 
eldest  son,  and  this  example  being  followed  by  those 
who  succeeded  him,  the  estate  has  remained  in  the 
family  name  unbroken  for  ten  generations.* 
*  1885. 


An  Island  Manor  191 

The  social  order  on  the  island  is  quite  patriarchal. 
The  proprietor  is  the  social  and  political  head  of  the 
domain.  Though  grazing  is  the  chief  business  of  the 
estate,  large  quantities  of  hay,  grain,  and  roots  are 
raised,  and  this  necessitates  the  employment  of  some 
thirty  farm  hands,  nearly  all  of  whom  were  bom  on 
the  island.  Some  have  grown  gray  in  the  service 
without  ever  having  left  the  island  except  for  brief 
visits  to  the  mainland.  Many  have  married  there, 
and  have  families  of  their  own,  so  that  there  is  a  little 
community  of  between  fifty  and  sixty  souls  for  whom 
the  proprietor  must  provide  food,  clothing,  shelter, 
school,  and  chapel. 

A  personal  visit  to  the  island  is  attended  with  some 
difiiculty.  The  nearest  point  on  the  Long  Island 
shore  is  a  sand  pit,  known  as  "The  Fireplace,"  some 
four  miles  distant.  The  nearest  settlement  is  "The 
Springs,"  a  little  hamlet  of  two  stores,  a  post-office, 
and  several  weather-beaten  houses.  Boats  from  the 
island  generally  come  to  this  place  every  Saturday  for 
supplies,  and  if  one  has  the  proper  credentials  he  may 
secure  a  passage  on  their  return  trip  and  will  be  sure 
of  a  welcome  at  his  journey's  end.  There  is  no  harbor 
on  the  island,  the  boats  landing  on  the  western  shore 
at  a  little  boathouse  built  high  up  on  the  open  beach 
for  their  protection.  From  this  point  a  gravelly  path 
winds  through  open  grounds  to  the  mansion  house 
of  the  estate,  perhaps  an  eighth  of  a  mile  inland.     This 


192  In  Olde  New  York 

is  a  long,  roomy  country  seat,  painted  white,  with  wide 
gables  and  dormer  windows,  a  deep  porch  in  front 
extending  the  whole  length  of  the  building,  and  is 
shaded  by  fine  old  forest  trees.  The  present  structure 
only  dates  back  to  a  few  years  before  the  Revolution, 
but  in  its  treasures  of  relics  and  priceless  heirlooms  it 
is  surpassed  by  none.  In  the  library  are  more  hunting 
trophies,  some  rare  old  books  and  documents,  land 
grants,  patents,  commissions,  and  the  like,  on  paper 
and  parchment  discolored  with  age.  One  of  the  rare 
books  is  the  family  Bible  of  Lion  Gardiner,  in  which 
is  inscribed  in  his  own  hand  this  quaint  bit  of  history: 

"In  the  year  of  our  Lord  1635,  July  10,  came  I, 
Lion  Gardiner,  and  Mary,  my  wife,  from  Woredon, 
a  town  in  Holland,  where  my  wife  was  bom,  being 
daughter  of  one  Dirike  Wilamson.  .  .  .  We  came 
from  Woredon  to 'London  and  thence  to  New  England, 
and  dwelt  at  Saybrook  fort  four  years,  of  which  I  was 
Commander,  and  there  was  bom  unto  me  a  son  named 
David  in  1636,  April  the  29th,  the  first  bom  in  that 
place,  and  in  1638  a  daughter  was  bom  called  Mary, 
August  the  30th,  and  then  I  went  to  an  island  of  mine 
own  which  I  bought  of  the  Indians,  called  by  them 
Manchonoke  and  by  me  Isle  of  Wight,  and  there  was 
bom  another  daughter  named  Elizabeth,  Sept.  14, 
1641,  she  being  the  first  child  bom  there  of  English 
parents." 

Rare   old   china   and    bric-a-brac,   glossy   perukes. 


An  Island  Manor  193 

wonderful  frills,  and  dainty  silken  robes  odorous  of 
camphor  and  lavender,  are  only  a  few  of  the  treasured 
relics  which  the  old  mansion  boasts.  Among  them 
was  until  recently  a  diamond  from  Captain  Kidd's 
stores,  and  a  cradle  quilt  of  cloth  of  gold  presented  by 
that  freebooter  to  the  wife  of  the  third  proprietor  in 
return  for  a  dinner  of  roast  pig  at  which  he  was  a  self- 
invited  guest.  Contiguous  to  the  house  is  a  fine 
garden,  and  beyond  it  a  dairy  house,  an  old-fashioned 
windmill  propelled  by  sails  for  grinding  grain,  several 
bams,  cottages  for  the  workmen,  and  a  race-course 
for  training  blooded  colts,  the  raising  of  which  has 
become  of  late  a  leading  industry  on  the  farm. 

One  September  morning,  mounted  on  a  spirited 
steed,  I  set  out  for  an  unrestricted  gallop  over  the  island. 
Turning  into  a  rough  wagon  road  leading  southward, 
I  cantered  along  past  the  race-course,  green  meadows, 
and  yellow  cornfields,  and  fields  where  the  brood 
mares  and  their  foals  were  quietly  feeding,  through 
several  bars  and  gates,  and  at  last  emerged  on  the 
wide  sheep  pastures  that  occupy  the  entire  southern 
portion  of  the  island.  Nearly  a  thousand  acres  in 
area,  these  pastures  present  every  variety  of  landscape 
—  steep  bluffs,  scarred  hills,  wide  downs  gay  with 
golden-rod,  little  green  hollows,  patches  of  deep  wood, 
marshes,  and  sea  beaches.  Some  twenty-five  hundred 
white,  fleecy  innocents  were  cropping  the  tender  grass 
here,  and  at  sight  of  the  horseman  scampered  toward 


194  In  Olde  New  York 

him  with  a  chorus  of  "baas,"  so  that  he  was  soon 
surrounded  by  hundreds  of  the  pretty  creatures  all 
eager  for  the  salt  that  is  liberally  showered  upon  them 
by  the  herdsman  in  his  visits.  He  had  none,  to  his 
sorrow,  and,  unable  to  withstand  their  appealing 
glances,  spurred  his  horse  to  the  top  of  the  highest 
bluflp  on  the  eastern  shore  for  a  glance  at  his  surround- 
ings. From  this  point  one  looks  out  over  the  entire 
island  upon  a  weird,  strange  scene  —  a  mass  of  tumbled 
hills,  gray  downs,  and  delightful  Uttle  hollows,  much 
resembling  in  some  features  the  neighboring  peninsula 
of  Montauk,  although,  unlike  that,  it  supports  here 
and  there  patches  of  deep  forest.  At  our  feet  the 
Atlantic  thundered.  Northward  we  could  see  the  gray 
coastline  of  Connecticut;  westward  the  hills  sloped 
gently  down  to  the  mansion  house  two  miles  away, 
and  on  the  south,  stretching  far  out  to  sea,  was  the 
long  tongue  of  land  known  as  Montauk,  with  the  white 
tower  of  the  lighthouse  marking  its  eastern  extremity. 
The  cattle  pastures,  equal  in  extent  to  the  sheep  range, 
occupy  the  northern  side  of  the  island,  and  are  sepa- 
rated from  the  latter  by  fences  of  rail  or  stones.  They 
are  capable  of  carrying  a  herd  of  four  hundred  head. 
Leaving  the  shore,  I  went  for  a  gallop  inland  through 
these  wastes.  My  horse  leaped  the  watercourses  and 
tussocks,  curved  round  the  little  circular  pond  holes 
that  dot  the  island,  and  threaded  the  patches  of 
forest  with  the  skill  of  an  old  campaigner.     Occasion- 


An  Island  Manor  195 

ally  we  were  met  by  a  wild  steer,  in  the  wood  we  startled 
whole  colonies  of  crows,  that  circled  above  us  with 
vociferous  cawings,  and  on  every  dry  tree  of  any  size 
was  perched  an  immense  fishhawk's  nest,  seemingly 
placed  with  an  eye  to  the  picturesque.  An  unwritten 
law  severe  as  Draco's  protects  these  birds  on  the  island, 
and  they  are  comparatively  tame.  No  more  favorable 
place  for  a  study  of  their  habits  could  be  found.  I 
learned  from  an  old  gray-haired  workman,  evidently 
a  keen  observer  of  nature,  that  they  invariably  leave 
the  island  on  the  same  day  in  autumn  —  the  20th  of 
October  —  and  return  as  regularly  on  the  20th  of 
May.  Their  nests  are  great  conglomerations  of  sticks, 
straw,  mud,  and  fish  bones,  fully  six  feet  in  diameter, 
and  ludicrously  large  compared  with  the  size  of  the 
bird.  Their  dexterity  in  taking  their  prey  is  some- 
thing wonderful.  My  friend  the  laborer  assured  me 
that  he  had  often  seen  them  strike  flatfish,  proverbially 
quick  of  movement,  eleven  feet  beneath  the  surface, 
and  bear  them  in  triumph  to  their  nests.  On  my 
return  after  completing  the  circuit  of  the  island  I 
passed  the  cemetery  of  the  estate,  a  lonely  little  place  of 
graves,  separated  from  the  waste  by  a  fence  of  white 
palings,  and  with  a  great  boulder  in  the  center  covered 
with  a  thick  growth  of  vines.  Here  the  several  pro- 
prietors of  the  island  are  laid,  except  one,  who  died 
and  was  buried  at  Hartford. 

One  might  make  a  chapter  of  the  wild  tales  and 


196  In  Olde  New  York 

traditions  of  Kidd  and  his  doings  that  haunt  the  island. 
Gardiner's  Bay  and  its  shores  are  said  to  have  been  a 
favorite  resort  of  the  pirate  and  others  of  his  ilk.  I 
saw  the  identical  spot  —  on  the  border  of  a  dense 
swamp  in  what  was  then  a  thick  wood  —  where  he 
buried  the  famous  chest  of  treasure  referred  to  by  our 
friend,  and  heard  many  tales  of  pirate  daring  and 
enormities.  Kidd  often  came  to  the  mansion  house 
in  the  days  of  the  third  proprietor,  was  a  self-invited 
guest  at  his  table,  and  took  forcibly  such  provisions 
as  his  ships  needed,  although  he  always  paid  prodigally 
for  them.  The  reputation  of  the  island  as  a  depository 
of  hidden  treasure  was  for  a  long  time  a  source  of 
annoyance  to  the  owners  from  the  hordes  of  treasure- 
seekers  that  it  attracted  thither,  but  the  guild  has  now 
become  nearly  extinct. 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE  WHALEMEN   OF  SAG   HARBOR 

IN  1845  Sag  Harbor  had  a  population  of  2700  souls; 
the  last  census  gives  it  but  1996.^  The  grand  list 
of  the  town  shows  a  more  startling  decrease,  all  attrib- 
utable to  the  loss  of  the  whaling  interest,  which  forty 
years  ago  lined  its  docks  with  ships  and  made  the  town 
a  familiar  name  in  every  Old  World  port,  and  in  the 
islands  of  the  sea  as  well.  This  decadence  is  made 
more  manifest  by  a  stroll  through  the  village.  You 
walk  through  streets  where  a  slumberous  quiet  prevails, 
and  whose  dust  rests  undisturbed  by  traffic.  You 
pass  fine  old  country  seats  gained  by  adventurous 
voyages  in  the  Atlantic  and  Pacific,  from  the  Arctic 
to  the  Antarctic,  but  whose  occupants  are  rarely  to  be 
tempted  now  from  their  snug  harborage.  Along  the 
water  front  are  ruins  of  oil-cellar,  warehouse,  cooper- 
shop  and  sail-loft,  covering  acres;  two  or  three  old 
hulks,  foundered  and  rotting  on  the  shallows,  and  a 
long  dock,  untenanted  save  by  fishing  smacks,  with 
perhaps  two  or  three  old  whalemen  lounging  listlessly 

*  This  figure  has  increased  considerably  since  1882,  the  time 
this  was  written. 


198  In  Olde  New  York 

upon  it,  and  a  single  cart  loading  with  cordwood,  sole 
representative  of  the  hurry  and  bustle  that  once  charac- 
terized it.  To  gain  a  vivid  idea  of  the  town  at  its  best 
estate,  however,  one  must  win  the  confidence  of  one  of 
the  old  ship  captains  who  still  remain  snugly  moored 
in  the  port,  or,  better  still,  get  an  interview  with  some 
member  of  the  old  shipping  firms,  who  once  had  their 
score  of  vessels  out  in  as  many  seas,  and  handled 
products  to  the  value  of  millions  annually.  In  his 
former  shipping-office,  I  met  recently  a  gentleman  of 
the  latter  class,  who  favored  me  not  only  with  many 
interesting  facts  concerning  the  prosecution  of  the 
business  in  former  days,  but  with  much  agreeable 
reminiscence  besides.  The  shipping-office  was  in  itself 
a  study;  a  small  room,  with  bare  floors,  fitted  with  a 
stove,  desk,  armchairs,  and  a  quaint  old  secretary, 
in  which  was  stored  a  variety  of  books  and  documents 
—  ledgers  filled  with  long  columns  of  figures,  musty 
log-books,  records  of  long-forgotten  voyages,  invoices, 
manifests,  clearances,  contracts,  advances,  outfits, 
leases  of  vessels,  and  the  like,  with  samples  of  oil, 
whaling  relics,  and  curiosities  from  foreign  climes. 
Quite  frequently  during  the  conversation  my  informant 
refreshed  his  memory  by  a  reference  to  this  store  of 
documents. 

It  is  a  fact  not  generally  knoWn,  perhaps,  that  the 
first  vessel  to  make  a  long-distance  whaling  voyage 
sailed  from  Sag  Harbor.     She  was  gone  but  a  few 


The  Whalemen  of  Sag  Harbor  199 

months,  running  down  into  the  South  Atlantic,  and 
returned  unsuccessful.  Nothing  daunted,  her  owners 
fitted  out  other  vessels,  which  returned  with  full  holds, 
netting  them  a  handsome  profit.  New  London, 
Stonington,  New  Bedford,  and  Nantucket  —  all  nearly 
opposite  —  were  quick  to  perceive  the  possibilities  of 
the  whale  fishery  assured  by  this  successful  voyage, 
and  engaged  in  the  business  with  ardor.  The  palmy 
days  of  the  town  and  of  the  whaling  industry  cul- 
minated in  1845.  At  this  time  the  village  had  sixty- 
four  ships  scattered  over  the  globe  in  pursuit  of  whales  ; 
and  my  informant  had  counted  as  many  as  fourteen 
ships  lying  in  the  harbor  at  one  time  waiting  to  unload 
cargo.  He  gave  a  vivid  picture  of  the  "high  days" 
witnessed  in  the  village  then.  Ships  lay  three  abreast 
at  the  long  dock.  Eight  hundred  riggers,  coopers, 
sailmakers,  and  stevedores  went  on  and  off  the  wharves 
daily.  Thousands  of  barrels  of  oil  lay  in  the  oil 
cellars,  piled  tier  above  tier  and  covered  with  seaweed. 
Great  warehouses,  three  stories  high,  the  upper  stories 
filled  with  whalebone  and  spermaceti,  the  lower  used 
as  sail  and  rigging  lofts,  alternated  along  the  water 
front  with  rows  of  long  cooper  shops.  Lighters  were 
coming  and  going  from  the  ships  in  the  bay,  hundreds 
of  carts  moving  oil  and  bone  from  the  docks,  the  adze 
of  the  cooper  and  hammer  of  blacksmith  and  outfitter 
rang  all  day  long,  and  the  streets  were  filled  with 
crews  of  outgoing  or  incoming  vessels,  attended  by 


200  In  Olde  New  York 

their  wives,  daughters,  and  sweethearts,  mingling  wel- 
comes and  farewells,  weeping  and  laughter.  Four 
firms  in  the  village  at  this  time  were  among  the  heaviest 
owners  in  the  trade  —  Howell  Brothers  &  Hunting, 
Mulford  &  Slate,  Charles  T.  Deering,  and  H.  &  S. 
French.  The  majority  of  the  ships,  however,  were 
owned  by  a  number  of  stockholders  who  formed 
regularly  organized  companies. 

The  vessels  employed  were  rarely  new,  more  often 
packet  ships  whose  defective  sailing  quaUties  unfitted 
them  for  passenger  traffic,  or  old  craft  that  had  out- 
lived their  usefulness.  Of  the  latter  class  some  notable 
vessels  came  into  the  hands  of  the  shipmasters,  among 
them  the  Thames,  famous  in  missionary  annals,  and 
the  Cadmus,  the  ship  that  brought  Lafayette  to  this 
country  in  1824.  These  were  purchased  or  leased  by 
the  shipping  firms,  refitted,  and  sent  out  on  voyages  of 
from  one  to  three  years'  duration.  Whaling  cruises 
were  at  first  limited  to  the  North  and  South  Atlantic, 
but  as  the  whales  became  less  and  less  plentiful  there, 
they  were  extended  until  they  embraced  the  entire 
circuit  of  the  globe.  A  favorite  three  years'  voyage 
in  1845  was  to  the  Azores,  thence  to  St.  Helena,  and 
down  the  West  Coast,  around  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope, 
through  the  Indian  Ocean  to  Australia,  thence  to  the 
North  Pacific,  thence  south  through  the  Polynesian 
Islands,  around  Cape  Horn  and  home. 

It  was  no  light  matter  to  fit  out  a  vessel  for  one  of 


The  Whalemen  of  Sag  Harbor  201 

these  voyages.  The  sails,  running  rigging,  cables, 
and  boats  were  inspected  with  the  utmost  care.  From 
a  paper  containing  instructions  to  the  outfitter  of  the 
bark  Pacific,  bound  on  a  three  years'  voyage,  I  find 
he  was  to  "have  yards  all  up  to  topmast  heads,  spare 
spars,  if  any,  on  deck,  jib-boom  rigged  in,  anchors  on 
bows,  both  chains  on  deck  and  forward  to  windlass, 
or  between  windlass  and  bow;  rigging  all  overhauled, 
mizzen  rigging  all  new,  including  backstays;  all  head 
rigging  new,  also  fore  topmast  and  topgallant  stays." 
This  done,  a  crew  of  twenty-two  picked  men  was  to 
be  provided,  with  three  boats  and  their  complement  of 
harpoons,  lances,  lines,  and  hatchets,  together  with 
2000  or  3000  well-seasoned  barrels  and  a  great  variety 
of  provisions  and  miscellaneous  stores.  A  little  book 
containing  the  list  of  articles  furnished  the  bark  Pacific 
above  mentioned  in  1852  lies  before  me,  and  to  satisfy 
the  reader's  curiosity  I  subjoin  a  list  of  the  most  im- 
portant. Under  the  head  of  provisions  and  cabin 
stores  were:  1  barrel  kiln-dried  meal,  500  pounds  pork 
hams,  100  gallons  vinegar,  2  quintals  codfish,  500 
pounds  sugar,  400  pounds  coffee,  400  pounds  dried 
apples,  2  boxes  raisins,  30  barrels  beans,  20  bushels 
com,  100  bushels  potatoes,  200  gallons  lamp  oil,  1  box 
sperm  candles,  3  boxes  hard  soap,  Ij  chests  of  tea, 
50  pounds  crushed  sugar,  6  pounds  mustard,  25  pounds 
black  pepper,  20  pounds  ginger,  28  pounds  spices,  30 
pounds  saleratus,  1  box  pepper  sauce,  3  bags  table  salt. 


202  In  Olde  New  York 

6  packages  preserved  meats.  In  her  medicine  chest 
she  carried  1  case  Holland  gin,  1  gallon  brandy,  1  of 
port  wine,  and  10  of  whiskey.  Under  the  head  of 
"  miscellaneous  "  articles  were  tar,  20  cords  of  oak  wood, 
chains,  head  straps,  old  junk,  white  oak  butts,  boat 
knees,  stems  and  timbers,  15  pounds  sand,  1  cask 
sawdust,  1  cask  lime,  3  whaling  guns,  50  bomb  lances, 
lance  powder,  1  spun  yam  winch,  and  1  mincing 
machine.  As  "ship  chandlery"  she  carried  scrubbing 
brushes,  chopping  knives,  lamp  wicks,  coffee  mills, 
Bristol  brick,  sieves,  4  sets  knives,  beeswax,  tacks, 
brass  and  iron  screws,  shovels,  hoes,  rigging  leather, 
pump  leather,  matches,  and  ensigns,  29  varieties  of 
cooper's  tools,  and  quite  an  assortment  of  crockery  and 
tinware.  Under  the  head  of  "cordage"  there  were 
20  manila  lines,  2  tarred,  1  coil  lance  line,  1  coil  mar- 
line, 4  coils  spun  yam,  12  coils  ratlines,  ropes  for  jib- 
stay,  and  8  coils  manilla  rope.  Under  head  of  "  slops," 
tobacco,  reefing  jackets,  duck  trousers,  and  denims, 
Guernsey  frocks,  twilled  kersey  shirts,  tarpaulin  hats, 
southwesters,  mounted  palms,  shoes,  and  brogans  are 
enumerated. 

Captain,  mates,  and  seamen  all  sailed  on  the  "  lay," 
that  is,  for  a  certain  percentage  of  the  cargo  secured. 
This  percentage  varied  with  the  different  owners  and 
captains.  Usually  a  captain  received  one  sixteenth, 
a  mate  one  twenty-fourth,  a  boat-steerer  one  ninetieth, 
and  ordinary  seamen  one  one-hundred-and-tenth  of  the 


The  Whalemen  of  Sag  Harbor  203 

catch.  The  remainder  fell  to  the  owners,  who  bore 
all  the  expenses  of  the  voyage.  This  system  gave 
every  man  an  interest  in  securing  a  "big  lay,'*  and 
worked  admirably.  An  outcome  of  this  plan,  which 
entailed  no  end  of  loss  and  vexation  on  the  owners,  was 
the  system  of  "advances,"  by  which  they  advanced 
to  the  men  tobacco,  clothes,  and  money,  often 
to  the  full  value  of  their  share  in  the  prospective 
cargo. 

The  return  of  a  vessel  from  a  three  years'  voyage 
was  an  event  in  the  village.  Keen  eyes  were  generally 
on  the  watch,  and  as  soon  as  she  was  sighted  a  pilot- 
boat,  filled  with  the  owners  and  friends  of  the  ship's 
oflScers,  sailed  down  the  harbor  to  welcome  her.  Mean- 
while news  of  the  arrival  spread  through  the  village, 
and  with  marvelous  rapidity  to  the  outlying  hamlets, 
Bridgehampton,  Easthampton,  etc.,  whence  the  crews 
were  largely  recruited,  and  as  the  vessel  drew  up  to  the 
dock  a  throng  of  friends  and  relatives  of  the  crew 
were  gathered  to  greet  them.  The  scene  that  ensued 
may  be  imagined;  it  was  not  without  its  more  somber 
aspects,  however,  for  often  it  could  only  be  said  of 
some  one  that  he  had  been  crushed  in  the  whale's 
jaws,  or  by  a  fall  from  the  masthead,  or  had  perished 
of  fever  and  been  buried  on  some  island  of  the  sea. 
The  men  ashore,  the  owners  and  skipper  made  an 
inspection  of  the  cargo;  vials  were  filled  with  samples 
of  oil  to  be  forwarded  to  the  commission  houses  in  New 


204  In  Olde  New  York 

York  through  whom  the  cargo  was  sold,  and  the 
vessel  was  ordered  unloaded. 

Traditions  of  wonderfully  lucrative  voyages  made 
by  some  of  these  vessels  still  linger  in  the  port.  The 
Thomas  Jefferson,  after  a  year's  voyage,  returned  with 
$132,000  worth  of  oil  and  bone.  She  cost  her  owners 
$17,000,  and  netted  them  that  year  $40,000.  The  ship 
Hudson^  absent  from  her  dock  just  seven  months, 
thirteen  and  one-half  days,  without  sighting  land  in 
the  interim,  brought  back  2400  barrels  of  oil.  The 
ship  Cadmus  made  as  good  a  voyage.  The  bark 
Pacific  was  most  unfortunate  at  first.  At  Pemambuco, 
on  her  first  voyage,  she  lost  her  captain,  and  was 
obliged  to  return.  On  a  second  venture  to  the  Pacific 
she  was  dismasted  by  a  typhoon,  and  again  returned 
empty.  On  her  third  voyage  she  netted  her  owners 
$7000.  Loss  and  risk  were  incident  to  the  business, 
however,  as  in  the  case  of  the  ship  Flying  Cloud, 
owned  in  Sag  Harbor,  but  sent  to  New  Bedford  with  a 
full  cargo  for  a  market.  There  her  owners  were 
offered  seventy-two  cents  per  gallon  for  their  oil,  but 
preferred  to  ship  it  to  England,  where  they  secured, 
after  nearly  a  year's  delay,  twenty-six  cents  per  gallon. 

I  was  curious  to  learn  the  cause  for  the  decline  of 
this  once  lucrative  business,  and  was  surprised  to  find 
it  attributed  almost  solely  to  the  California  excitement 
of  1849.  Whalemen,  from  their  life  of  adventure,  were 
at  once  attracted  by  tales  of  the  richness  of  the  new 


The  Whalemen  of  Sag  Harbor  205 

El  Dorado,  and  removed  thither  by  hundreds.  Whole 
crews  deserted  from  whale  ships  lying  in  San  Francisco, 
and  made  for  the  diggings,  so  that,  with  none  to  man 
them,  the  vessels  were  laid  up  at  the  wharfs.  A  great 
fire  in  1845,  which  destroyed  docks,  warehouses,  and 
other  appliances,  also  contributed  to  this  end. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

TALES  OF  SOUTHAMPTON 

r  I  iHE  best  story-teller  at  Southampton  one  season 
*■  years  ago  was  a  little  old  man  in  saffron-colored 
nankeens  such  as  the  beaux  of  fifty  years  ago  were 
wont  to  wear.  He  rarely  lacked  an  audience,  and  many 
a  strange  yam  he  spun  with  quaint  earnestness  that 
seemed  to  bolster  up  the  weak  points  in  the  story  with 
strange  effect. 

"This  beach  is  the  real  treasure  island,  don't  you 
know,"  he  said,  one  day  as  he  sat  on  the  shore  and 
waved  his  hand  out  to  the  shining  stretch  of  sand. 
"  Not  only  has  it  received  the  wrecks  of  the  great  fleets, 
entering  the  bay  of  the  Western  metropolis  for  nearly 
three  hundred  years,  but  it  was  Captain  Kidd's  great 
bank  of  deposit,  as  well  as  that  of  his  illustrious  com- 
peers. Wedges  of  gold,  great  anchors,  heaps  of  pearls, 
inestimable  stones  and  pretty  much  everything  else 
poor  Clarence  saw  are  here  if  only  one  knew  where 
to  look.  If  I  have  not  dug  and  handled  some  of 
Kidd's  treasure  myself  I  have  seen  and  handled  the 
gross  integument  which  once  incased  it;  and  as  my 
previous  tales  have  been  legendary  —  although  having 


Tales  of  Southampton  207 

the  stamp  of  truth  —  in  this  case  I  can  produce  the 
ancient  record  itself.  I  was  rummaging  in  a  south  side 
garret  recently  and  there  found  an  iron  pot  of  peculiar 
shape,  more  *pot  bellied,'  if  you  will  excuse  the  term, 
and  much  heavier  than  those  now  in  use,  covered  with 
a  deep  coat  of  rust. 

"'Ah,'  said  my  hostess,  when  I  reported  the  find, 
*that  is  the  Captain  Kidd  pot.  It  was  dug  up  yonder 
by  my  grandfather  over  a  hundred  years  ago.  Here 
is  a  paper,'  she  added,  *that  will  tell  you  all  about  it.' 

"It  was  a  very  old  paper,  indeed,  yellow  with  time, 
and  almost  ready  to  fall  to  pieces,  dated  '  New  London, 
Connecticut,  June  28,  1790,'  but  the  name  had  been 
torn  or  had  fallen  off,  to  my  vexation.  However,  she 
pointed  to  a  letter  from  a  correspondent  in  Southamp- 
ton which  read  as  follows:  'Yesterday  a  young  man  in 
this  place  dug  up  a  stone  and  a  pot  under  it  full  of 
dollars.  He  called  in  his  neighbors  and  digging  deeper 
they  found  another  and  much  larger  pot.  The  stone 
and  inscription  I  have  seen.  It  appears  to  be  a  ballast 
stone.  The  engraving  on  it  is  much  blurred.  We 
think  it  was  buried  by  Kidd.  It  was  dug  up  within  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  of  our  south  shore,  on  a  flat  piece  of 
land.  The  engraver  must  have  been  illiterate  and  the 
inscription  cannot  be  imitated  by  printed  types.' 

"My  hostess  did  not  remember  how  many  dollars 
were  in  the  pot,  but  thought  the  sum  a  comfortable 
one.    Not  long  afterward,  in  a  garret  in  Easthampton, 


208  In  Olde  New  York 

I  discovered  Captain  Kidd's  old  treasure  chest,  a  heavy 
oaken  box  with  great  brass  clasps  and  locks,  that  bore 
great  store  of  precious  stones,  silver  bars  and  cloth  of 
gold  when  it  was  dug  up  on  Gardiner's  Island  by  order 
of  the  commissioners  sent  there  by  the  royal  governor 
for  this  special  purpose.  Kidd  was  on  trial  in  Boston 
at  the  time  for  his  crimes  and  told  where  he  had  buried 
several  chests  of  treasure  on  Gardiner's  Island  in  the 
hope  of  purchasing  pardon.  He  was  sent  to  England, 
however,  tried  and  hanged  in  chains  at  Newgate. 
The  woman  who  owned  the  chest  was  a  descendant 
of  the  Gardiners  of  Gardiner's  Island,  and  vouched 
for  its  genuineness  as  the  treasure  chest  of  Captain 
Kidd. 

"But  really,  the  greatest  find  ever  made  on  this 
beach  was  that  of  my  young  friend  and  relative.  Jack 
Belyea.  Jack  didn't  say  much  about  it  for  obvious 
reasons.  He  was  here  five  summers  ago.  A  shy, 
sensitive  fellow  naturally,  but  his  great  trouble  that 
summer  rendered  him  more  so.  You  see,  he  wanted 
to  marry  Bertha,  and  Bertha  confided  to  me  that  she 
was  awfully  in  love  with  Jack,  but  unfortunately  his 
bank  account  wasn't  at  all  satisfactory  to  her  parents 
and  they  forbade  the  union.  So  Jack  had  but  a  sorry 
summer  of  it,  paced  the  sands  revolving  plans  for  in- 
creasing his  worldly  gear,  and  was  often  tempted  to 
end  it  all  by  one  plunge  into  the  breakers.  In  one  of 
these  evil  moments  his  foot  struck  a  little  ball  of  yam, 


Tales  of  Southampton  209 

as  he  thought,  and  sent  it  spinning  along  the  beach 
before  him.  Then,  because  he  felt  a  spite  against 
everything  animate  and  inanimate,  I  suppose,  he 
began  kicking  it  on  before  him  like  a  football.  Pres- 
ently he  saw  something  strange  about  it  and  picked  it 
up  to  examine  it  more  closely.  It  was  woven  instead 
of  wound,  in  a  very  curious  and  intricate  way.  Jack 
said  this  aroused  his  curiosity  and,  taking  out  his 
knife,  he  cut  one  by  one  the  strands  of  strong  Indian 
hemp  of  which  it  was  composed.  The  last  layer  dis- 
closed one  of  those  horribly  ugly  and  grotesque  Indian 
idols,  with  which  travelers  to  the  Orient  are  familiar. 
One  feature  of  it  struck  Jack  as  very  unusual  —  its 
stomach  was  very  large  and  protruded  in  an  unnatural 
way.  A  few  strokes  of  his  knife  opened  it  when,  lo, 
out  fell  six  of  the  largest  and  most  beautiful  diamonds 
ever  seen  outside  of  kings'  regalia. 

"How  they  rolled  and  sparkled  on  the  hard  sand! 
Jack  stood  dazed  for  a  moment,  then  scrambled  to 
pick  them  up  and  hide  them  in  his  pocket.  After  this 
he  peered  farther  into  the  cavity  whence  they  came 
and  found  there  a  coiled  ribbon  of  rice  paper  on  which 
was  written  in  Hindustan: 

"'The  gems  have  been  my  curse,  therefore  commit 
I  them  to  the  sea.  Whosoever  thou  be  that  findest, 
keep  not,  but  sell;  if  rich,  give  to  the  poor:  if  poor,  enjoy 
thy  wealth  and  give  Allah  thanks.' 

"  When  Jack  took  his  bank  book  to  Bertha's  father 


210  In  Olde  New  York 

a  month  later,  the  old  gentleman  was  vastly  surprised 
but  could  not  gainsay  the  figures.  He  could  only 
murmur  a  blessing.  So  Jack  and  Bertha  were 
married." 

Another  day  when  we  had  gathered  round  the  Uttle 
old  man  at  the  base  of  Sand  Hill  Crane  dune,  he  told 
this  strange  story  of  Captain  Topping: 

"  I  stood  here  last  Michaelmas  toward  sunset  watch- 
ing the  top  hamper  of  a  big  East  Indiaman  sink  beneath 
the  waves,  when  suddenly  a  shadow  enveloped  me,  cool, 
like  a  cloud,  and  looking  up  I  beheld  an  odd  figure 
a  few  yards  off  —  a  man  of  giant  frame,  leaning  on  an 
eel  spear  and  regarding  me  not  unkindly.  His  cos- 
tume, sou'wester,  pea  jacket  and  heavy  sea  boots,  be- 
spoke the  seafaring  man  of  an  earlier  day,  and  his 
skin  was  so  tanned  and  wrinkled  by  time  and  exposure 
that  it  hung  in  folds  about  his  shrewd  face  and  twink- 
ling black  eyes. 

"As  I  looked  up  he  turned  his  head  in  a  listening 
attitude  and  then  cried  with  startling  energy:  *  Fourth 
squadron,  ahoy!  ahoy!'  There  was  no  response,  how- 
ever, and  after  peering  up  and  down  the  sands  he 
turned  to  me. 

"*Methought  I  heard  our  old  cry  —  the  weft!  the 
weft!  But  I  see  it  not.  Old  eyes  are  dim  and  old 
ears  dull  I  find.' 

"The  weft;  ah,  yes,  I  remembered;  the  fisher's  coat 
waved  from  a  staff  on  the  dunes,  the  signal  to  the 


Tales  of  Southampton  211 

whaling  crews  two  hundred  years  ago  that  a  whale 
was  off  shore  —  and  then  looking  more  closely  I  per- 
ceived that  it  was  not  an  eel  spear  but  a  harpoon,  that 
my  strange  visitor  leaned  upon. 

"'And  this  is ?'  I  queried. 

"'Cap'n  Thomas  Topping  at  your  service,'  he 
replied  with  dignity. 

"  The  name  startled  me.  I  had  been  nosing  through 
the  old  records  in  the  town  clerk's  office  and  recognized 
the  name  as  that  of  one  of  the  leading  spirits  in  the 
settlement  of  the  town,  a  famous  Indian  fighter  and 
captain  of  the  whaling  crew,  withal  an  ancestor  of 
mine  several  generations  back.  I  could  only  stare  at 
him  in  wide  mouthed  wonder. 

"*IVe  come  back,'  he  continued  in  a  thin,  cracked, 
quavering  voice,  'to  see  what  these  moderns  are  a 
doin',  an'  I  confess  I  don't  altogether  admire  the 
goin's  on,  I  vow  I  can't  fathom  'em.  The  place  is  far 
prettier  than  in  my  day.  Oceans  o'  money  must  have 
been  spent  on  the  houses,  lawns  an'  gardens,  to  say 
nothin'  of  the  houses,  kerridges  and  sich,  but,  fer  all 
that,  life  ain't  as  well  worth  livin'  here  as  it  was  in 
my  day  leastways  not  ter  me. 

"*Fust  place  I  visited  was  my  old  windmill  on 
Fortune  Hill  that  Cap'n  Eben  Parsons  leased  of  me  an' 
run  for  nigh  fifty  year.  Ef  you  had  all  the  grain 
Cap'n  Eben  has  seen  run  through  them  hoppers  o' 
his,  you'd  be  richer  than  you  are,  or  like  to  be.     Well, 


212  In  Olde  New  York 

the  old  mill  was  there  just  the  same  outwardly  to 
appearance,  but  inside  —  why,  I  found  on  openin' 
the  door  and  walkin'  in  that  two  likely  lookin'  wimmen 
from  Boston,  or  up  that  way,  had  bought  it  an'  turned 
it  into  a  dwellin'  hus.  Think  of  livin'  in  a  windmill; 
an'  they  had  fitted  it  up  inside  with  all  sort  o'  city 
knicknacks  an'  fumishens,  an'  I  must  say  had  every- 
thin'  as  snug  an'  cozy  as  could  be. 

"*I  introduced  myself  as  Cap'n  Eben,  who  was 
runnin'  the  mill  when  their  fathers  and  mothers  was 
children,  an'  they  appeared  real  glad  to  see  me,  asked 
me  to  stay  to  tea.  Naturally  we  fell  to  talkin'  'bout 
their  takin'  up  with  an  old  mill  fer  a  house.  I  tole  'em 
that  when  Cap'n  Eben  an'  Sabella  Hand  that  was 
a  sparkin',  arter  they  was  promised,  Cap'n  Eben 
wanted  to  be  jined  to  onct,  an'  go  to  housekeepin'  on 
the  ground  floor  o'  his  old  mill,  not  bein'  forehanded 
enough  to  provide  a  house;  but  Sabella  turned  up  her 
nose  at  the  idee;  she  said  she  guessed  she  wan't  goin' 
to  be  married  to  live  in  a  mill;  an'  she  waited  six  years 
afore  Cap'n  Eben  could  provide  a  house  to  her  notion. 
The  women  marveled  at  Sabella's  conduct,  said  they 
didn't  admire  it  a  bit;  for  their  part  they  delighted  to 
live  in  the  old  mill;  and  they  asked  me  a  heap  o'  ques- 
tions —  how  I  ground  com  and  wheat,  and  if  the  rats 
and  mice  was  so  bold  an'  numerous  then,  and  if  the 
wind  moaned  so  ghost  like  through  the  vans  o'  nights 
when  a  storm  was  brewin'. 


Tales  of  Southampton  213 

"*I  next  went  a  lookin'  fer  the  old  meetin'  house 
where  Parson  Hunting  preached  the  pure  gospel  for 
goin'  on  fifty  years;  but  dear  me,  there  was  a  billiard 
room  and  bowling  alley  on  the  site;  an*  out  where  the 
horse  sheds  stood  there  was  a  space  rolled  smooth 
and  young  men  and  women  in  parti-colored  raiment 
was  a  batting  balls  agin  a  net  in  the  center.  There 
was  a  woman  on  the  stoop  of  a  fine  new  house  across 
the  way  watchin'  em,  an'  I  made  bold  to  ask  her  where 
the  meetin'  'us  was  moved  to. 

"'Law,'  says  she,  'you're  a  stranger  here  I  guess. 
They  moved  it  down  agin  the  sand  hills  yonder,  an' 
made  a  bran  new  buildin'  of  it,  an'  brought  up  a  sex- 
tant from  New  York  to  take  care  of  it.' 

"'I  was  meandering  peacefully  down  the  street  in 
search  of  the  meetin'  'us,  when  of  a  suddint  some- 
thin'  shot  by  me  with  a  swish,  a  cretur  like  a  man 
balanced  on  a  frame  hung  between  two  wheels  placed 
tandem  —  but  what  kept  the  thing  up  I  couldn't  see 
unless  it  was  the  power  of  the  evil  one.  I  thought  it 
was  one  of  them  winged  creturs,  or  wheels  within 
wheels  foretold  by  the  prophet  Elijah  for  the  last  days, 
an'  I  asked  a  boy  if  it  was,  and  he  said,  "It's  a  bysickle, 
you  old  fool." 

"'In  my  day  children  were  taught  to  respect  their 
elders. 

"'The  sextant  took  great  pride  in  his  meeting  'us 
an'  showed  me  all  over  it.     It  was  a  queer,  low,  mouse- 


214  In  Olde  New  York 

like  building,  with  a  many  towers  and  ells  and  angles 
and  no  steeple,  and  was  built  mostly  of  wreck  timber 
gathered  on  the  beach  —  so  different  from  the  stately 
churches  of  my  day  with  lofty  steeples  and  pillared 
porticos.  I  asked  the  sexton  why  they  changed. 
"Well,"  sez  he,  "they  wanted  somethin'  different. 
Them  old-fashioned  meetin'  houses  with  tall  steeples 
an'  four  pillars  in  front  was  so  familiar  an'  common- 
place, they  got  to  be  an  eyesore,  so  our  trustees  told 
the  architect  to  git  'em  up  somethin'  novel  an'  im- 
heard  of.     An'  he  done  it." 

"*The  fact  is,'  said  the  old  warrior,  slightly  chang- 
ing his  position,  'I  don't  understand  these  mod- 
ems. They  cum  here  an'  build  houses,  costin'  fifty 
thousan'  dollars  apiece  —  that  would  a  bought  the 
hull  township  in  my  day,  includin'  the  whalin'  out- 
fit—  an'  only  occupy  'em  tew  or  three  months  in 
the  year,  or  not  at  all.  An'  then  the  trumpery!  they 
fill  'em  up  with  spinnin'  wheels,  hatchets,  and  old 
irons,  trammels,  arm  cheers,  pots  and  kittles;  what 
we  used  they  keep  for  ornaments.  I  hed  ter  laugh 
when  I  see  at  one  place  Deacon  'Siah  Howell's  ole 
arm  cheer  of  English  oak  he  bro't  with  him  from 
Suffolk  a  standin'  on  the  front  stoop,  tied  all  over 
with  blue  ribbons.' 

"While  speaking,  my  strange  visitor  had  kept  his 
weather  eye  to  seaward  and  his  huge  fingers  gripped 
the  harpoon  staff. 


Tales  of  Southampton  215 

"Suddenly  there  came  a  distant  cry:  *The  weft! 
The  weft!    Weft!    Weft!' 

"'There  she  blows!  There  she  blows!'  and  with  a 
shout  of  glee  my  venerable  ancestor  made  off  amid 
the  sand  hills  and  I  never  saw  him  again." 


CHAPTER  XXII 


THE  SHINNECOCKS 


A  MILE  and  a  half  from  Southampton  lie  the 
•*^^  wide  reservation  and  rude  dwellings  of  the  Shinne- 
cock  Indians  —  with  the  possible  exception  of  the 
Mashpees  on  Cape  Cod,  the  most  numerous  and  re- 
spectable of  existing  Eastern  tribes.  One  finds  their 
history  and  the  story  of  their  connection  with  the 
whites,  as  contained  in  the  quaint  old  Southampton 
records,  exceedingly  interesting.  When  the  first 
settlers  of  Southampton  came  here  from  Massachusetts 
in  1640,  they  were,  next  to  the  Montaukets,  the  domi- 
nant tribe  on  the  island,  with  a  territory  extending  from 
Canoe  Place  on  the  west  to  Easthampton  on  the  east, 
including  the  whole  south  shore  of  Peconic  Bay,  and 
their  warriors,  according  to  tradition,  reaching  when 
arranged  in  Indian  file  from  "Shinnecock  gate  to  the 
town  "  —  about  two  miles  —  and  numbering  2000  men. 

Southampton   was   purchased   of  the   Shinnecocks. 

*  Written  for  the  Evening  Post  in  1886.  The  Shinnecocks  still 
retain  their  tribal  autonomy  and  reservation  and  have  about  held 
their  own  in  numbers,  but  it  is  said  there  is  scarcely  a  full-blood 
Shinnecock  among  them. 


The  Shinnecocks  217 

The  deed  is  still  preserved  in  the  town  records,  an  in- 
strument dating  back  to  1640,  and  setting  forth,  in  the 
old  terminology,  that  Pomatuck,  Manduck,  and  seven 
others,  "  native  Indians  and  true  owners  of  the  eastern 
part  of  Long  Island,  for  the  consideration  of  sixteen 
coats  and  threescore  bushels  of  com,  and  in  further 
consideration  that  the  English  should  defend  the  said 
Indians  from  the  unjust  violence  of  whatever  Indians 
should  illegally  assail  them,"  conveyed  to  the  whites 
"  the  lands  commonly  known  by  the  name  of  the  place 
where  the  Indians  bayle  over  their  canoes  out  of  the 
North  Bay  (Peconic)  to  the  south  side  of  the  island, 
all  the  lands  lying  eastward  of  that  point."  The  pur- 
chase also  included  all  the  planted  land  "eastward 
from  the  first  creek  at  the  westermore  end  of  Shinne- 
cock  plain."  For  more  than  sixty  years  Indian  and 
white  continued  to  dwell  in  the  greatest  harmony  — 
the  energies  of  the  former,  as  their  hunting  privileges 
grew  less,  being  absorbed  in  the  off-shore  whale  fishery. 
Some  curious  entries  in  the  town  records  pertaining 
to  this  matter  are  interesting  as  showing  the  relations 
existing  between  the  parties.  In  1670  Paquanang  and 
other  Indians  agreed  with  a  Southampton  company 
"  to  whale  for  the  next  three  years  the  same  way  as  the 
last  three  years,  and  in  addition  a  pot  such  as  John 
Cooper  gives  his  Indians."  By  an  instrument  of  1671 
Atingquoin  agreed  to  whale  for  the  next  season  "for 
one  coat  before  it  commenced,  one  when  the  season 


218  In  Olde  New  York 

was  half  over,  and  a  third  when  it  ended,"  or  "for  a 
pot,  a  pair  of  shoes  and  stockings,  one-half  of  a  pound 
of  powder,  and  three  pounds  of  shot."  In  other  cases 
they  were  employed  in  trying  out  the  blubber,  for  a 
certain  share  in  the  oil.  By  1703,  however,  their  hunt- 
ing lands  had  nearly  all  sKpped  away,  and  they  became 
restless  and  dissatisfied,  whereupon  a  grand  convention 
of  whites  and  Indians  was  held  at  Southampton  and  the 
matter  amicably  settled,  the  town  giving  the  Indians  a 
lease  of  Shinnecock  Hills  at  a  nominal  rental  of  one  ear 
of  com,  paid  annually  —  the  meadows,  marshes,  grass, 
herbage,  feeding,  pasturage,  timber,  stone,  and  con- 
venient highways  excepted;  the  Indians,  however,  to 
have  the  privilege  of  ploughing  and  planting  certain 
portions  of  it.  They  were  also  given  Uberty  to  cut 
flags,  bulrushes,  and  such  grass  as  they  made  their 
baskets  of,  and  to  dig  ground-nuts,  "mowing  lands 
excepted." 

Shinnecock  Hills  is  the  beautiful  tract  of  rolling 
country,  comprising  pastures  only,  occupying  the 
narrow  neck  between  Peconic  and  Shinnecock  Bays. 
It  was  held  by  the  Indians  under  the  lease  of  1703  until 
1859,  when,  by  special  act  of  the  Legislature,  they 
conveyed  their  right  in  it  to  the  proprietors  of  Southamp- 
ampton,  receiving  in  return  the  fee  of  their  present 
reservation  on  Shinnecock  Neck.  The  proprietors  con- 
tinued to  hold  the  hills  in  common  until  1861,  when 
they  were  sold  at  public  auction  for  $6250,  the  pur- 


The  Shmnecocks  219 

chasers  being  a  company  of  Southampton  farmers, 
who  proposed  to  hold  it  for  grazing  purposes,  as  had 
been  done  for  centuries  by  their  ancestors.  The  tract 
has  recently  been  purchased  by  a  company  of  Brooklyn 
capitalists,  who  propose,  it  is  said,  converting  it  into  a 
summer  resort.  Since  the  exchange  the  Indians  have 
continued  to  reside  quietly  on  their  reservation  of 
some  600  acres  on  Shinnecock  Neck.  The  writer's 
visit  to  them  was  in  company  with  Mr.  Edward  Foster, 
of  Southampton,  one  of  the  editors  of  its  records,  and  a 
gentleman  well  versed  in  the  affairs  of  the  Indians. 
We  drove  into  the  country  perhaps  a  mile  beyond  the 
last  of  the  straggling  village  houses,  and  at  the  foot  of 
a  little  depression  in  the  plain  crossed  a  brook  just 
where  it  fell  into  an  arm  of  Shinnecock  Bay.  On  the 
left,  curving  around  the  shore  of  the  bay,  and  bounded 
on  the  west  by  a  similar  arm,  with  Shinnecock  Hills 
beyond,  lay  a  wide  plain,  burdened  near  us  with  grow- 
ing corn  and  wheat,  but  showing  further  in  the  rear 
untilled  fields  covered  with  weeds  and  brush,  groves 
of  forest  trees,  and,  scattered  here  and  there,  a  score 
of  brown,  mossy,  one-story  cottages.  This  was  the 
reservation.  We  drove  through  the  corn-fields,  past 
the  cottages  to  the  south  end,  and  returned  along  the 
western  shore,  making  the  circuit  of  the  tract. 

"Very  few  of  the  Indians  till  their  lands,"  remarked 
my  companion;  "they  are  let  out  by  the  trustees  to 
outside  parties.     The  government  of  the  reservation  is 


220  In  Olde  New  York 

a  little  peculiar.  It  is  vested  entirely  in  three  trustees, 
members  of  the  community,  who  are  elected  annually 
by  the  tribe  in  the  room  where  our  town  meetings  are 
held.  These  men,  with  the  consent  of  three  of  our 
justices  of  the  peace,  have  full  power  over  the  land  on 
the  reservation.  They  cannot  sell  it,  for  it  is  held  only 
in  fee;  but  they  can  lease  it  for  a  limited  period,  not 
exceeding  three  years,  and  then  perform  the  ordinary 
duties  of  overseers.  The  land  is  excellent,  giving  good 
crops  of  wheat  and  com,  as  good  as  any  in  this  vicinity, 
but  two  thirds  of  it  is  gone  to  waste  through  the  in- 
dolence of  the  Indians  in  not  cultivating  it.  There 
are  some  twenty-five  houses  on  the  reservation,  which, 
allowing  five  persons  to  each  house,  would  give  a  total 
of  125  inhabitants;  but  probably  not  two  thirds  of  the 
tribe  remain  at  home,  the  others  leading  a  roving  ex- 
istence —  whaling,  fishing,  wrecking,  and  as  farm 
laborers.  They  have  a  good  school,  kept  by  a  colored 
master,  two  churches  —  Congregational  and  Millerite 
—  but  no  resident  pastor,  the  oflSce  being  filled  some- 
times by  the  Presbyterian  minister  at  Southampton, 
sometimes  by  itinerant  clergy,  and  again  by  members 
of  the  Young  Men's  Christian  Association."* 

By  this  time  we  had  passed  several  cottages,  and 

*  What  was  the  Congregational  Church  or  body  has  now  been 
taken  under  the  care  of  the  Long  Island  Presbytery  and  a  resident 
minister  is  suppUed  by  the  Presbyterian  Church  and  its  friends. 
The  Millerite  Church  still  lacks  a  resident  pastor. 


The  Shinnecocks  221 

had  arrived  at  one  which  bore  a  neater,  more  inviting 
appearance  than  its  neighbors. 

"This  was  the  former  home  of  Priest  Lee,"  remarked 
my  friend,  "father  of  a  somewhat  remarkable  family, 
and  a  characteristic  one.  He  is  dead,  but  Mrs.  Lee 
is  living.     Suppose  we  call." 

As  we  drew  up  before  the  open  doorway  an  elderly 
woman,  tall,  straight,  showing  strong  traces  of  Indian 
blood,  came  and  framed  herself  in  the  doorway. 

"We  wished  to  ask  about  your  husband,"  said  my 
companion.  "  He  was  a  colored  man,  I  think,  a  native 
of  Maryland?" 

"Yes,"  she  replied. 

"And  you  have  had  five  sons,  every  one  a  seaman, 
and  several  rising  to  be  masters  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  My  friend  would  like  to  hear  about  the  boys,  some 
of  their  exploits,  the  ships  they  sailed  in,  and  the  like." 

Here  the  old  lady  hesitated.  Her  memory  was 
too  poor,  she  said :  "  But  there  is  Garrison  in  the  truck 
patch,"  she  continued,  brightening;  "he  could  tell  you 
all  about  it."  Garrison  was  the  youngest  son,  a  stal- 
wart fellow  of  over  six  feet,  showing  the  Indian  charac- 
teristics as  plainly  as  his  mother;  and  leaning  on  his 
plough  handles,  he  gave  us  his  family  annals  modestly, 
but  without  hesitation. 

"  There  were  five  brothers  of  us,"  he  began  — 
"Milton,    Ferdinand,    Notely,    Robert,    and    myself. 


222  In  Olde  New  York 

WilKam  Garrison.  Milton  went  to  sea  young,  followed 
whaling  sixteen  or  seventeen  years,  and  died.  Ferdi- 
nand rose  to  be  mate,  and  then  captain  of  the  ship 
CallaOy  and  made  a  good  voyage  of  four  years  in  her 
to  the  South  Pacific  about  1871.  Notely  shipped  in 
the  Phillip  the  First,  of  Sag  Harbor,  and  we  have  not 
heard  from  him  in  ten  years.  Report  says  that  he 
deserted  his  ship,  reached  the  Kingsmill  group  of 
islands  in  the  Pacific,  married  the  chief's  daughter, 
and  is  now  king  there.  Robert  followed  the  sea  eight 
years,  then  took  to  wrecking,  and  was  drowned  in  the 
Circassian  disaster.  As  for  myself,  I  shipped  at  six- 
teen in  the  Pioneer,  of  New  London,  and  made  my 
first  voyage  of  seventeen  months  to  Greenland,  being 
frozen  in  ten  months.  My  next  voyage  of  eighteen 
months  was  to  the  Arctic,  in  returning  from  which 
we  were  captured  and  burned  by  the  pirate  Shenan- 
doah. In  1870  I  shipped  as  mate  of  the  ship  Florida, 
of  San  Francisco,  for  the  Arctic,  and  next  voyage  as 
mate  of  the  Abbie  Bradford,  of  New  Bedford.  We  left 
that  port  in  1880  for  Greenland.  Eight  months  out 
the  captain  died  of  consumption,  and  I  took  command 
of  the  ship,  and  after  completing  the  voyage  brought 
the  vessel  into  port." 

These  brothers,  I  further  learned,  became  accom- 
plished navigators,  with  no  other  education  than  that 
afforded  by  the  tribal  school.  The  pretty  Congrega- 
tional chapel  Mr.  Foster  made  the  basis  of  some  in- 


The  Shinnecocks  223 

teresting  remarks  on  the  moral  and  religious  status  of 
the  tribe. 

"Some  among  them  have  Hved  and  died  in  the 
odor  of  sanctity,"  he  remarked;  "but  their  general 
spiritual  condition  is  not  encouraging,  considering  the 
efforts  made  for  their  conversion  and  enlightenment. 
Love  of  firewater,  as  with  their  fathers,  is  still  their 
greatest  failing.  They  are  not  industrious,  despising 
the  tilling  of  the  soil,  allowing  their  fine  lands  here 
to  go  to  waste,  as  you  see,  but  no  better  surfmen  or 
sailors,  especially  whalemen,  can  be  found.  They  are 
wandering  and  erratic  in  their  habits,  usually  not  more 
than  half  the  tribe  being  on  the  reservation  at  any  one 
time.  Little  attention  is  paid  to  preserving  the  purity 
of  the  family,  negro  and  white  blood  being  so  inter- 
mixed that  there  is  not  a  pure-blood  Indian  in  the 
tribe." 

As  before  remarked,  there  are  two  churches,  each 
with  quite  a  membership,  and  a  school  numbering 
some  fifty  scholars,  the  latter  being  supported  by  and 
under  the  direct  control  of  the  State.  From  the  church 
we  drove  down  to  the  southern  end  of  the  reservation 
near  the  sea  to  a  little  graveyard,  entirely  covered  with 
weeds  and  bushes,  where  the  ten  Shinnecocks  who 
perished  in  the  wreck  of  the  Circassian  were  interred, 
and  regained  the  highway  by  a  series  of  paths  on  the 
west,  seeing  there  several  pretty  groves  with  mossy 
cottages  embowered  in  them  —  the  former  often  util- 


224  In  Olde  New  York 

ized  by  the  young  people  of  Southampton  for  picnics. 
The  future  of  the  reservation  is  an  interesting  question. 
Its  lands  are  now  quite  valuable,  adjoining  plots  sell- 
ing as  high  as  $200  or  $300  per  acre,  and  are  each  year 
increasing  in  value.  If  the  Indians  could  sell,  the  land 
would  probably  long  ago  have  been  sold.  They,  how- 
ever, only  hold  it  for  themselves  and  their  children, 
the  title  being  vested  in  the  state  for  the  tribe;  if  par- 
titioned the  proceeds  would  be  divided  among  the 
Indians,  as  their  individual  interests  might  appear; 
and  so  long  as  a  Shinnecock  remains  it  would  be 
difficult  for  a  purchaser  to  secure  a  good  title. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

PORT  JEFFERSON  AND  THE  WHALEBOAT 
PRIVATEERSMEN  * 

pORT  JEFFERSON  lies  at  the  head  of  Setauket 
-■-  Harbor,  and,  although  containing  (in  1880)  nearly 
2000  inhabitants,  is  so  embowered  in  trees  that  one 
coming  in  from  sea  would  scarcely  suspect  its  existence. 
Its  streets  follow  primitive  cart-paths  winding  up  the 
hillsides  from  the  hollow  in  which  the  business  portion 
of  the  town  lies.  Ship-building  is  the  chief,  almost  the 
sole  industry.  As  our  ship  drew  up  to  the  dock 
we  heard  the  clamor  of  a  hundred  saws,  planes, 
and  hammers,  and  counted  four  large  brigs  on  the 
stocks  in  process  of  construction.  More  than  one 
hundred  years  ago,  we  learned.  Captain  John  Wilsie 
built  the  first  ship  here,  and  the  business, -although  not 
as  good  as  before  the  war,  is  still  in  a  flourishing  con- 
dition. There  are  three  yards  in  operation,  and  a  vet- 
eran shipwright  of  eighty  told  us  that  he  had  known  ten 
vessels  on  the  stocks  at  once.  When  asked  how  they 
could  afford  to  build  ships  so  remote  from  market,  he 
replied  that  they  put  in  better  material,  worked  on  a 
^  Written  in  1887. 


226  In  Olde  New  York 

better  model,  and  did  better  work  at  Port  Jefferson 
than  in  other  places;  hence  secured  better  prices. 
"Besides,"  he  continued,  "many  of  the  ships  built 
here  are  owned  by  the  townspeople.  We  are  thrifty, 
build  our  own  ships,  furnish  the  men  to  man  them, 
and  charter  them  for  cargoes;  our  vessels  are  chiefly 
engaged  in  the  Southern  trade,  plying  between  New 
York  and  Charleston  or  Savannah."  Two  steamers, 
I  learned,  besides  sailing  vessels,  were  built  here  one 
year,  and  some  eighty  yachts  are  laid  up  each  winter, 
their  furbishing  and  refitting  in  the  spring  giving 
additional  animation  to  the  yards.  The  tourist  finds 
littlp  to  attract  in  the  village  aside  from  its  quaintness, 
but  unless  very  diflScult  to  please  will  be  charmed  by 
a  sail  through  its  harbor  and  the  waters  adjacent. 
Setauket  Harbor  and  its  tributary.  Old  Field  Bay, 
have  a  common  inlet  from  the  Sound  and  extend  west 
several  miles,  forming  a  labyrinth  of  straits  and  bays 
lying  between  wooded  points  and  islands. 

To  the  student  of  old  men  and  days  the  whole  region 
is  storied,  having  been  the  scene  of  some  of  the  most 
gallant  deeds  of  the  whale-boat  privateersmen  of  the 
Revolution.  It  is  singular  that  no  more  of  these  men 
has  been  told  in  history.  Many  readers  are  unaware 
of  their  existence;  yet  they  formed  an  eflScient  arm  of 
the  Continental  service,  especially  in  the  transmission 
of  intelligence,  and  may  be  regarded  as  the  germ  of 
the  American  navy.     Long  before  Connecticut's  war 


Port  Jefferson  227 

governor  had  placed  on  the  Sound  the  S'py^  the  Crom- 
welly  the  Trumbull,  and  other  audacious  privateers  to 
capture  the  British  storeships,  the  whaleboat  crews 
were  abroad,  anticipating  them  in  the  matter  of  taking 
stores,  and  making  reprisals  on  the  Tories  who  swarmed 
on  the  Sound  shore  of  Long  Island.  The  war  found 
them  already  organized  for  the  capture  of  the  whale 
and,  leaving  leviathan,  they  turned  their  attention  to 
nobler  game.  Companies  seem  to  have  existed  at  this 
time  at  Stamford,  Norwalk,  Fairfield,  Stratford,  Derby, 
and  New  Haven,  although  Fairfield,  a  leader  in  the 
Whig  movement,  was  the  center  of  operations. 

Their  whale-boats  were  well  adapted  to  a  predatory 
warfare.  They  were  about  thirty-five  feet  long  and 
were  propelled  by  eight  rowers.  Each  boat  carried  a 
large  swivel  as  armament.  Their  operations  were  con- 
ducted swiftly  and  silently,  usually  at  night.  Some- 
times a  British  fort  or  magazine  on  the  island  was  the 
objective  point;  sometimes  a  Tory  murder  or  outrage 
was  to  be  avenged,  or  a  prominent  leader  captured  in 
reprisal;  again,  a  supply-ship  or  armed  vessel  was  the 
object  —  two  of  the  latter  having  been  captured  and 
towed  into  Fairfield  during  the  war.  In  all  cases  the 
leader  mustered  his  men  secretly,  the  boats  pushed  off 
at  nightfall,  rowed  swiftly  and  silently  across  the 
Sound,  struck  their  blow,  and  were  out  of  reach 
of  pursuit  when  morning  broke.  Setauket  Harbor, 
directly   opposite    Fairfield,    and    but    sixteen    miles 


228  In  Olde  New  York 

distant,  was  the  landing  point  of  most  of  these  ex- 
peditions. 

Some  of  the  exploits  were  not  equaled  in  daring  and 
romance  by  any  feats  of  the  border.  In  1777  a  large 
body  of  the  British  and  Tories  had  seized  the  Presby- 
terian Church  at  Setauket  and  converted  it  into  a 
fortress,  using  it  as  a  stronghold  from  which  to  send 
out  marauding  parties.  On  the  14th  of  August  of  that 
year  Colonel  Parsons  with  150  men  embarked  at  Fair- 
field in  whale-boats,  crossed  the  Sound,  and  about  day- 
break made  an  attack  on  the  fort.  The  firing  had 
scarcely  begun,  however,  when  a  messenger  came  from 
the  boats  with  the  news  that  several  British  men-of-war 
were  coming  down  the  Sound,  and,  fearing  that  their 
return  might  be  cut  off,  the  gallant  band  was  forced 
to  retreat. 

A  second  expedition,  organized  three  years  later 
with  another  object  in  view,  was  much  more  successful. 
At  Mastic,  on  a  point  projecting  into  Great  South  Bay, 
the  British  had  erected  a  formidable  fort,  encircled  by 
a  deep  ditch  and  wall,  the  whole  surrounded  by  an 
abattis  of  sharpened  pickets.  Several  supply  vessels 
and  300  tons  of  forage  were  protected  by  the  fort. 
Hearing  through  his  spies  that  the  fort  was  garrisoned 
by  but  fifty-four  men,  Colonel  Tallmadge  determined 
to  capture  it,  and  left  Fairfield  on  the  21st  of  November, 
1780,  with  eight  whale-boats,  carrying  in  all  but  eighty 
men.    They  reached  Old  Mans  —  a  harbor  three  miles 


Port  Jefferson  229 

east  of  Port  Jefferson,  at  nine  o'clock  in  the  evening, 
and  disembarked;  but  a  heavy  rain  setting  in,  they  were 
forced  to  He  all  that  night  and  the  next  day  concealed 
in  the  bushes.  On  the  second  night  the  rain  ceased, 
and  the  troops  marched  across  the  island  —  here 
some  twenty  miles  wide  —  captured  the  fort  by  sur- 
prise, dismantled  it,  burned  the  vessels,  stores,  and 
forage,  marched  back  to  their  boats  with  their  prisoners, 
and  were  in  Fairfield  by  eleven  o'clock  the  next  morn- 
ing, without  the  loss  of  a  man.  Congress  passed  a 
resolution  highly  complimenting  the  officers  and  men 
engaged,  and  Washington  wrote  to  the  commander  from 
Morristown  to  thank  him  for  his  "judicious  planning 
and  spirited  execution  of  this  business." 

A  still  bolder  feat  of  the  whale-boatmen  had  been 
executed  the  year  previous.  In  1779  the  house  of 
General  Silliman,  in  Fairfield,  had  been  surrounded 
by  a  body  of  Tories  from  Long  Island,  and  the  General 
and  his  young  son  were  borne  away  captives.  The 
Americans  had  no  prisoner  of  equal  rank  to  offer  in 
exchange  and  decided  to  procure  one.  The  Hon. 
Thomas  Jones,  of  Fort  Neck,  a  Justice  of  the  Supreme 
Court  of  New  York,  was  selected,  and  a  volunteer 
company  of  twenty-five  men,  commanded  by  Captain 
Hawley,  set  out  from  Newfield  Harbor  (now  Bridge- 
port) to  capture  him.  They  landed  at  Stony  Brook 
on  the  morning  of  the  4th  of  November,  and  began 
their  march  to  the  Judge's  residence,  more  than  thirty 


230  In  Olde  New  York 

miles  distant,  arriving  there  at  9  o'clock  on  the  evening 
of  the  6th.  No  man  could  have  been  more  unsuspicious 
of  danger  than  he.  There  was  a  gay  party  of  young 
people  in  the  house,  and  the  dance  was  proceeding 
merrily,  when  Captain  Hawley  and  his  body  of  grim 
retainers  appeared  at  the  door.  The  Judge  was  found 
in  the  hall,  and  was  taken  with  scant  ceremony,  a 
young  gentleman  named  Hewlett  being  forced  to 
accompany  him  as  a  makeweight  for  the  GeneraFs 
son.  The  party  met  with  many  adventures  before 
reaching  their  boats,  being  forced  to  hide  in  the  forest 
by  day,  and  narrowly  escaping  capture  on  two  occa- 
sions by  the  Kght  horse,  which  were  soon  scouring  the 
country  in  pursuit.  Six  laggards  were  taken,  but  the 
others  succeeded  in  regaining  their  boats,  and  reached 
Fairfield  on  the  8th  with  their  prisoners.  It  was  not, 
however,  until  the  succeeding  May  that  their  exchange 
was  effected. 

Quite  equal  to  these  in  dash  and  courage  were  the 
exploits  of  Capt.  Caleb  Brewster,  one  of  the  most  noted 
leaders  of  the  service.  He  was  a  native  of  Setauket, 
but  a  resident  of  Fairfield  during  the  war,  and  accom- 
panied both  the  expeditions  of  Colonel  Parsons  •  and 
Major  Tallmadge  as  a  volunteer.  In  1781  with  his 
whale-boats  he  boldly  attacked  a  British  armed  vessel 
in  the  Sound,  and  after  a  sharp  action  brought  her  a 
prize  into  Fairfield.  Again,  on  the  7th  of  December, 
1782,  from  his  post  at  Fairfield  he  discovered  a  number 


Port  Jefferson  231 

of  armed  boats  in  the  Sound,  evidently  bent  on  some 
predatory  excursion,  and  gave  chase.  The  forces  were 
about  equal,  and  a  desperate  encounter  ensued,  nearly 
every  man  on  both  sides  being  killed  or  wounded; 
but  the  enemy  at  last  escaped  with  the  loss  of  two  of  his 
boats,  which  were  borne  into  Fairfield  in  triumph. 
Brewster  himself  was  shot  through  the  body  in  this 
action,  but  recovered  from  the  wound.  The  next  year, 
on  the  9th  of  March,  1783,  he  took  the  British  armed 
vessel  Fox  in  an  action  lasting  but  two  minutes,  and 
without  the  loss  of  a  man.  In  addition  to  these  duties, 
from  the  beginning  to  the  end  of  the  struggle  he  was 
the  confidential  agent  of  Washington  in  securing  in- 
formation of  the  enemy's  movements. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

harvabd's  first  graduate 

the  rev.  nathaniel  brewster  op  setauket 

/^N  a  gentle  elevation  that  slopes  down  to  Setauket 
^^  Harbor  on  the  east,  its  steeple  facing  the  west, 
with  the  village  schoolhouse  on  the  right  and  the  Clark 
Memorial  Library  on  the  left,  stands  the  Presbyterian 
Church  of  Setauket,  a  church  which  has  as  much 
history  connected  with  it  and  of  as  interesting  a  charac- 
ter as  any  of  the  famous  churches  of  New  England. 
Its  early  records  have  been  lost,  but  we  know  that  it 
was  founded  in  1660,  five  years  after  the  Independents 
of  Connecticut  had  come  over  and  settled  Setauket. 
What  is  of  more  general  interest  is  the  fact  that  its  first 
pastor,  the  Rev.  Nathaniel  Brewster,  a  grandson  of 
the  famous  Elder  Brewster  of  the  Mayflower,  was 
the  first  native  graduate  of  Harvard  College.  Mr. 
Brewster  died  during  his  pastorate  here  and  was  buried, 
according  to  the  present  pastor,  the  Rev.  William 
Littell,  who  has  held  his  post  for  thirty  years  and  is 
a  careful  student  of  his  church's  history,  near  a  comer 
of  the  church,  though  nothing  to-day  marks  the  spot. 
It  would  be  a  graceful  tribute  for  the  alumni  of  Har- 


Harvard's  First  Graduate  233 

vard  to  erect  a  simple  shaft  above  his  grave  in  memory 
of  the  first  of  the  long  line  of  able  and  brilliant  men 
who  have  reflected  luster  on  their  alma  mater. 

The  second  minister,  the  Rev.  George  Phillip,  also 
a  graduate  of  Harvard,  was  sleeping  quietly  in  the 
churchyard  which  surrounds  the  sacred  edifice,  when 
the  differences  of  opinion  between  Britain  and  her 
American  colonies  culminated  in  the  Revolution.  The 
British  soon  overran  Long  Island  and  maintained  a 
strong  garrison  here  at  Setauket,  no  doubt  to  overawe 
the  Independents  at  New  Haven,  Fairfield,  and  other 
points  on  the  "Christian  shore,"  as  the  patriots  called 
Connecticut.  They  seized  the  Presbyterian  church 
and  turned  it  into  a  barracks  for  their  soldiers,  as  they 
did  in  many  other  towns  of  the  island,  in  some  cases 
using  them  for  stables. 

"They  built  a  fort  around  the  church,"  wrote  a 
quaint  chronicler  of  the  day,  "and  cast  up  the  bones 
of  many  of  the  dead.  They  destroyed  the  pulpit  and 
the  whole  inside  work  of  the  church,  and  the  tomb- 
stone of  Parson  Phillips  was  among  those  destroyed. 
The  minister  in  charge  through  all  the  troublous  days 
of  the  Revolution  was  the  Rev.  Benjamin  Tallmadge, 
whose  pastorate  lasted  from  1754  to  1786.  It  did  not 
endear  him  to  the  British  that  his  son,  Benjamin  Tall- 
madge, Jr.,  who  had  settled  in  Litchfield,  Conn.,  was 
one  of  the  boldest,  most  dashing  and  most  successful 
partisan  colonels  in  the  Continental  service. 


234  In  Olde  New  York 

In  1797  there  came  here  as  pastor  the  Rev.  Zachariah 
Greene,  a  man  of  marked  individuaUty,  of  whom 
many  good  stories  are  told.  When  the  war  broke  out, 
Greene,  then  a  lad  of  sixteen  threw  aside  his  books  and 
entered  the  patriotic  army,  doing  good  service,  it  is 
said,  in  more  than  one  pitched  battle;  but  at  last  a 
wound  in  the  shoulder  and  another  in  the  back  dis- 
abled him  for  further  military  service,  and  he  returned 
to  his  books.  He  was  one  of  Parson's  men  in  the 
attack  on  the  church  at  Setauket  in  1777,  and  on 
assuming  the  pastorate  here  made  a  note  of  the  fact 
that  where  formerly  he  had  fought  the  forces  of  evil 
with  carnal  weapons,  he  had  now  come  to  combat  them 
with  spiritual.  For  fifty  years  he  was  acting  pastor 
here,  and  then  for  ten  years  longer  pastor  emeritus, 
residing  with  friends  at  Hempstead.  The  older  men 
in  the  church  remember  him  to  this  day.  Old  Father 
Greene  they  call  him,  in  speaking  of  him.  He  had 
five  fingers  on  his  left  hand,  and  the  Presbytery  in 
calling  him  stipulated  that  he  should  keep  that  hand 
gloved.  He  was  a  good  preacher  and  faithful  pastor, 
the  chief  founder  of  the  Long  Island  Bible  Society. 

During  the  last  years  of  his  pastorate  he  was  assisted 
by  the  Rev.  John  Gile,  a  young  man  of  much  promise. 
On  the  very  same  day  that  Father  Greene  started  to 
go  to  his  friends  in  Hempstead,  leaving  Mr.  Gile  in 
charge  of  the  church,  the  latter  went  to  Stony  Brook 
Harbor,  three  miles  west,  to  bring  home  a  sailboat 


Harvard's  First  Graduate  235 

that  had  been  given  him.  He  sailed  out  of  that  har- 
bor into  the  Sound  to  bring  her  around  into  Setauket 
Bay,  and  neither  man  nor  boat  was  ever  again  heard  of. 

The  present  church  succeeded  in  1812  the  one 
riddled  in  the  Revolution,  and  is  not,  therefore,  of 
hoary  antiquity. 

There  are  some  very  old  and  quaint  tombstones  in 
the  churchyard.  Two  very  heavy  tables  of  sandstones 
resting  horizontally  on  piers  have  a  square  stone  of 
different  color  let  into  the  center,  on  which  the  in- 
scription is  cut.     That  on  the  north  reads: 

"  Richard  Floyd,  Esq.,  late  Colonel  of  this 
County  and  a  Judge  of  the  Court  of  Common 
Pleas,  who  deceased  February  23,  1737,  in  ye 
73d  yr.  of  his  age." 

The  other  stone,  without  doubt  from  its  position 
that  of  his  wife,  once  bore  an  inscription,  but  it  has 
been  effaced.     Why  was  this  done? 


CHAPTER  XXV 

FIRE  ISLAND 

OFFSPRING  of  ocean  and  air,  fruitful  of  nothing 
but  beach  grass,  hop-toads,  snakes,  and  mos- 
quitoes. Fire  Island  Beach  when  I  visited  it  in  1885, 
still  attracted  the  summer  visitor,  and  held  its  own 
bravely  with  newer  and  more  widely  advertised  resorts. 
A  strange  bit  of  earth  this  beach  is,  to  be  sure  —  a 
barren,  wind-swept,  desolate  sand-bar,  interposed 
between  the  Atlantic  and  the  quiet  waters  of  Great 
South  Bay,  pushed  out  nine  miles  into  the  ocean,  so 
low  and  flat  that  it  would  seem  the  first  winter  storm 
must  blot  it  out,  yet  increasing  year  by  year  rather 
than  diminishing.  It  is  easy  to  read  its  genesis. 
Ages  ago  a  sand-bar  rose  out  of  the  waves  nine  miles 
off  the  mainland  of  Long  Island;  built  up  by  waves 
and  winds,  it  grew  and  lengthened  eastward  and  west- 
ward, and  in  process  of  time  formed  a  wide  smooth 
beach  from  Coney  Island  to  Southampton,  eighty-one 
miles,  broken  at  intervals  by  inlets  through  which  the 
tides  rushed  to  fill  the  bays  formed  by  the  barrier 
within.  The  first  glance  of  the  beach  shows  that  man 
has  come  over  and  captured  it.     Here  is  the  brick 


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Fire  Island  237 

tower  of  the  lighthouse  185  feet  high,  the  quaint  cottage 
of  Life-Saving  Station  No.  25,  and  the  square  signal 
tower  of  the  Western  Union  Company.  There  is  also 
a  great  hotel, ^  unique  in  its  way,  and  a  model  for  all 
seaside  hotels,  with  rows  of  cottages  attached  to  it, 
and  a  mile  or  more  of  covered  board  walks  leading  to 
the  ocean  strand  on  the  south,  and  to  the  bayside  and 
steamboat  wharf  on  the  north. 

As  you  approach  from  Babylon  across  the  bay,  the 
hotel  looms  up  like  the  line  of  barracks  at  some  great 
army  post,  for  it  is  long  and  low,  with  three  rows  of 
windows  like  the  portholes  in  a  three-decker.  The 
host,  Mr.  Sammis,  is  a  landlord  of  the  old-fashioned 
sort,  said  to  be  the  third  oldest  inn-keeper  on  Long 
Island.  After  a  business  career  in  town  as  druggist 
and  hotel-keeper,  Mr.  Sammis  came  to  Fire  Island 
and  opened  a  hotel  on  the  sands.  That  was  in  1855. 
The  first  year  his  hotel  was  a  chowder-house  —  a  sort 
of  day  resort  for  parties  from  the  mainland.  It  was 
very  successful,  and  the  next  year  he  added  100  feet, 
and  opened  the  present  Surf  Hotel.  It  has  grown 
modestly  and  safely  since  then,  and  is  now  625  feet 
long,  with  accommodations  for  400  guests. 

In  its  old  registers  may  be  found  the  names  of 
some  of  the  best  known  people  of  New  York  and  the 
country.     The  attractions  are  mostly  such  as  nature 

*  The  Surf  Hotel  was  burned  some  years  ago,  and  conditions 
on  Fire  Island  have  materially  changed  since  this  was  written. 


238  In  Olde  New  York 

offers.  A  dip  in  the  surf  before  the  eight  o'clock 
breakfast  begins  your  day.  After  breakfast  you  will 
find  half-a-dozen  bronzed  bay  skippers  waiting  to 
take  you  to  the  fishing-grounds.  Fine  sport  has 
been  had  this  year  in  the  waters  of  both  bay  and 
inlet,  the  gamy  bluefish  being  the  special  quarry  just 
now.  Trolling  is  the  favorite  form  of  sport  with  the 
guests,  but  "chumming"  is  practised.  I  can  see 
from  my  windows  now  a  long  line  of  boats  anchored 
in  the  bay,  with  their  Knes  down  in  the  water,  taking 
bluefish  that  have  been  attracted  there  by  throwing 
out  bait  for  days  beforehand.  The  fishermen  are 
back  in  time  for  a  plunge  in  the  surf  or  bay  before 
dinner.  After  dinner  sailing  parties  are  in  order,  or 
excursions  to  explore  the  island  —  an  interesting  diver- 
sion. The  hghthouse  and  the  Kfe-saving  station  Ke 
southeast  of  the  hotel,  not  ten  minutes'  walk,  and 
have  many  visitors. 

The  old  keeper,  who  has  the  true  nautical  flavor 
about  him,  leads  the  way  up  the  one  hundred  and 
ninety-five  steps  of  the  tower  to  the  platform  that 
runs  around  the  outside  just  below  the  huge  Fresnel 
lens.  He  is  very  proud  of  his  light,  which  is  the  first 
that  the  great  ocean  liners  sight  in  approaching 
New  York  from  sea,  and  therefore  one  of  the  most 
important  on  the  coast.  It  is  a  first-order  light,  with 
a  lamp  of  500-candle  power,  which  pilots  have 
seen  in  good  weather  at  a  distance  of  thirty  miles, 


Fire  Island  239 

but  whose  usual  range  is  twenty-five  miles.  To  feed 
the  flame  of  this  lamp  requires  two  quarts  of  the  best 
kerosene  oil  every  hour.  We  very  much  desire  to 
visit  the  light  after  dark,  but  the  keeper  is  proof  against 
all  blandishments  —  he  points  to  the  regulations  of 
the  Lighthouse  Board  forbidding  visitors  to  the  tower 
after  sunset,  and  says  the  inspector  assured  him  that 
it  would  be  as  much  as  his  place  was  worth  to  disobey 
the  order.  It  must  be  an  eerie  place  up  here  in  a 
nor'easter  on  a  winter  night,  when  the  tower  rocks 
under  the  fury  of  the  gale,  and  sand,  and  spray,  and 
snow  clouds  the  windows.  On  such  nights  the  keeper 
often  hears  the  crash  of  some  heavy  objects  striking 
the  glass,  and  finds  next  morning  beneath  his  windows 
the  dead  bodies  of  wild  geese  and  duck  which  have 
struck  the  tower  in  the  night. 

Life-Saving  Station  No.  25,  as  before  remarked,  lies 
a  little  to  the  southwest,  almost  within  hailing  distance. 
Its  doors  have  been  closed  whenever  the  writer  has 
passed  that  way,  but  a  flock  of  contented  chickens  gave 
evidence  that  it  was  inhabited,  as  is  the  fact,  the  keeper 
being  sole  custodian  during  the  summer  months,  but 
with  power  to  summon  assistance  if  it  should  be  re- 
quired. The  Signal  Station,  or  more  properly  the 
reporting  station  of  the  Western  Union  Company, 
is  the  third  of  the  structures  which  go  to  make  this 
barren  strip  of  sand  an  important  commercial  center 
—  although  innocent  of  ships,  except  those  unfortu- 


240  In  Olde  New  York 

nates  whose  barnacled  ribs  may  be  seen  protruding 
above  the  sands  or  swaying  in  the  surf.  The  Signal 
Station  is  a  large  square  tower  on  the  sands,  midway 
between  the  Surf  Hotel  and  the  ocean  strand.  Fire 
Island,  as  before  remarked,  is  the  first  point  of  land 
sighted  by  the  great  ocean  racers  westward  bound,  and 
so  the  Western  Union  Company  maintains  here  one 
of  its  most  expert  operators,  who  reports  the  arrival 
of  steamers  not  only  to  their  owners,  but  to  those  who 
may  have  friends  on  board,  several  hours  before  they 
are  due  at  their  docks  in  New  York.  The  operator  is 
Mr.  Peter  Keegan,  a  specialist  in  his  calling  and  a 
most  interesting  man  to  talk  with.  If  to  learn  the 
names  of  passing  ships  by  reading  the  signals  displayed 
by  them  were  all  he  had  to  do,  his  work  would  be  mere 
routine,  but  to  distinguish  scores  of  passing  vessels 
daily  by  the  cut  of  their  jibs  or  the  color  of  their  smoke- 
stacks, some  of  them  perhaps  when  only  four  or  five 
feet  of  their  topmasts  are  visible,  a  keenness  of  vision 
and  wide  knowledge  of  ships  and  shipping  is  required. 
He  is  a  man  whose  place  cannot  be  filled.  Summer 
and  winter  since  the  service  was  organized  in  1878,  he 
has  been  at  his  post,  with  only  one  day  in  the  year  that 
he  can  call  his  own.  The  room  in  which  he  spends 
most  of  his  time  is  in  the  extreme  top  of  the  building, 
and  by  means  of  windows  and  portholes  commands 
a  view  of  the  ocean,  the  inlet,  the  bay,  and  the  long  line 
of  beach.     In  one  comer  is  a  well-selected  library,  in 


Fire  Island  241 

another  the  electric  key  which  keeps  the  vigilant 
watcher  in  communication  with  the  outside  world,  a 
reclining  chair,  a  cozy  rocker,  and  inviting  seats 
scattered  around  to  complete  the  furniture.  In  a  third 
corner  is  a  package  of  books,  tied  with  a  string,  that 
were  recovered  from  the  wreck  of  the  Oregon^  which 
foundered  a  few  miles  off  the  station.  There  are  two 
portholes  in  the  southeast  comer  of  the  room,  and 
through  one  a  long  and  powerful  telescope  is  thrust. 
The  little  instrument  in  the  comer  keeps  up  a  merry 
clicking  —  in  winter  when  the  hotel  is  closed,  and  all 
the  summer  visitors  departed,  the  only  sound  from 
the  outer  world  that  reaches  the  lonely  watcher.  "So 
long  as  the  instrument  is  in  order,"  says  Mr.  Keegan, 
"I  don't  feel  so  isolated,  for  I  know  that  by  a  few 
touches  I  can  talk  with  my  most  distant  friends,  or 
summon  aid  if  needed;  but  when  the  cable  breaks  and 
the  clicking  stops,  the  silence  becomes  almost  un- 
bearable." It  is  no  uncommon  thing  for  the  wires  to 
get  out  of  order  in  the  terrible  winter  storms. 

The  uninitiated  reader  no  doubt  supposes  that  ships 
are  reported  by  their  signals;  if  this  were  the  case,  the 
operator's  duties  would  be  much  simplified,  as  he 
would  only  need  to  be  master  of  the  signal  code;  but 
in  these  days  of  fierce  competition  and  record-break- 
ing trips,  very  few  of  the  great  ocean-racers  run  in 
sufficiently  near  to  display  signals  —  to  do  so  would  de- 
lay them  an  hour  or  more  —  but  keep  a  straight  course 


242  In  Olde  New  York 

for  Sandy  Hook  Light,  thus  passing  from  fifteen  to 
twenty-five  miles  out  to  sea.  To  the  visitor  it  is  a 
standing  wonder  how  steamers  can  be  distinguished 
and  accurately  reported  at  that  distance.  Mr.  Keegan 
explains  it.  "In  the  first  place  I  know  just  when  to 
expect  the  steamers.  The  name  and  hour  of  saihng 
from  the  other  side  of  each  vessel  is  reported  to  me, 
and  I  am  so  familiar  with  their  runs  that  I  know  the 
very  hour  that  they  should  pass  my  station.  For 
instance,  the  new  French  steamer  Bretagne,  one  of 
four  new  steamers  built  for  the  Havre  Line  within  the 
last  three  years,  left  Havre  on  the  20th,  and  is  due  here 
to-day  —  the  29th,  at  this  hour  —  and  there  are  her 
topmasts  already  rising  above  the  horizon.  Wednes- 
day I  shall  look  for  the  fast  steamer  City  of  Paris, 
which  left  Queenstown  at  1.30  p.m.  on  Thursday,  and 
will  be  due  here  at  8  a.m.  on  Wednesday.  Then, 
with  my  glass,  I  can  see  a  vessel  very  distinctly  twenty 
miles  distant,  and  am  enabled  to  distinguish  them  by 
my  special  knowledge  of  their  characteristic  marks. 
Masts  and  smoke-stacks  are  the  chief  distinguishing 
features.  I  have  reported  vessels  when  but  four  or 
five  feet  of  their  masts  were  visible." 

"  Do  you  never  make  mistakes  ? "  is  asked. 

"  But  one  in  four  years,"  he  replied,  "  and  this  is  how 
it  happened:  I  was  expecting  a  certain  steamer,  a  slow 
boat,  due  to  pass  some  time  in  the  night.  Steamers 
passing  at  night  display  no  signals  by  which  I  can  tell 


Fire  Island  243 

their  names,  but  simply  bum  a  signal  indicating  the 
line  to  which  they  belong.  At  midnight  a  steamer 
passed  and  showed  the  signal  of  the  line  to  which  the 
expected  boat  belonged,  and  I  naturally  inferred  it 
was  she,  and  so  reported,  but  as  it  turned  out  the  com- 
pany had  sent  a  second  boat  immediately  after  the 
first,  and  she  was  the  one  that  displayed  the  signal." 

"Are  mistakes  attended  with  serious  results?" 

"They  would  cause  great  confusion  and  expense," 
is  the  reply.  "For  instance.  La  Bretagney  which  you 
see  just  coming  into  view  out  there,  and  which  I  have 
just  reported,  has,  say,  300  cabin  passengers  on  board 
That  means  that  200  messages  announcing  her  arrival 
are  now  being  sent  out  to  friends  of  persons  on  board, 
and  of  course  if  the  wrong  vessel  is  reported,  no  end 
of  annoyance  and  loss  would  be  caused." 

"You  must  have  had  some  thrilling  and  exciting 
experiences  while  keeping  your  lonely  vigils." 

"In  the  matter  of  shipwrecks  and  loss  of  life,"  he 
replied,  "yes;  I  suppose  I  saw  the  last  signal  of  the 
gallant  fellows  on  the  pilot  boat  Columbia,  which  dis- 
appeared so  mysteriously  oiff  Fire  Island  one  dark 
night,  leaving  not  a  trace.  That  night  I  sighted  the 
Alaska  and  reported  her;  a  few  minutes  later  I  saw  a 
pilot  boat  setting  her  signal;  then  suddenly  the  latter 's 
lights  went  out,  and  I  saw  the  steamer  lying  to  and 
cruising  about  as  if  searching  for  something.  She  did 
not  leave  until  daylight,  and  reported  being  in  collision 


244  In  Olde  New  York 

with  some  vessel.  The  most  singular  part  of  it  was 
that  not  a  trace  of  the  Columbia  or  of  her  crew  was  ever 
discovered.  That  famous  disaster,  the  sinking  of  the 
Oregon,  was  first  reported  by  me.  It  was  the  morning 
of  March  14,  1887  —  Sunday;  I  had  scheduled  her  to 
pass  about  sunrise,  and  at  5.30,  sweeping  the  horizon 
with  my  glass,  I  saw  a  trail  of  smoke  rising  above 
the  sea.  'It  is  the  Oregon  coming  up,'  I  said,  and 
waited  for  her  to  come  nearer.  As  her  smoke-stacks 
came  into  view  I  saw  that  something  was  wrong,  but 
what,  I  could  not  make  out,  as  she  showed  no  signals 
of  distress.  At  once  I  sent  the  main  office  this  tele- 
gram: 

"'Steamer  Oregon,  southeast  bound  in,  apparently 
in  trouble.  Keegan.' 

"An  hour  later  she  changed  her  course  and  headed 
for  the  beach,  flying  the  British  ensign  union  down  at 
masthead  —  a  signal  showing  great  extremity,  and  I 
knew  she  needed  assistance  at  once.  Looking  about 
for  some  one  to  go  to  her  aid,  I  saw  pilot  boat  No.  11 
and  the  schooner  Fanny  Gorham  in  the  offing  and 
signaled  both.  The  sea  was  quite  smooth,  and  both 
at  once  headed  for  the  disabled  Oregon.  All  were  so 
far  down  the  horizon  that  I  could  not  see  the  boats 
which  transferred  the  steamer's  passengers  to  the 
schooner,  but  all  were  got  safely  on  board.  The 
Oregon  kept  dropping  below  the  sea  line  all  the  morn- 
ing, but  whether  she  was  sinking  or  only  drifting  I 


Fire  Island  245 

could  not  tell.  Later  I  saw  the  steamer  Fulda  come 
up  and  take  off  the  rescued  passengers  from  the 
schooner.  As  she  passed  me  she  signaled,  ^Oregon 
sunk;  passengers  all  saved  and  on  board,'  which  I  at 
once  reported  to  the  office  at  New  York  —  the  first 
announcement  of  the  disaster  given  the  public.  Pilot 
boat  No.  11  —  the  Phantom  —  foundered  at  sea  in  the 
blizzard  just  a  year  later,  and  all  on  board  were  lost. 
I  also  sent  her  owners  the  first  news  of  the  stranding 
of  the  Scotia^  which  struck  on  a  shelving  bar  fifteen 
miles  east  of  here  while  nearly  at  full  speed.  I  first 
saw  her  headed  for  the  beach  about  five  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  with  both  masts  gone.  Later  I  made  out 
her  name  from  her  signal  flag,  which  was  suspended 
from  between  her  smoke-stacks,  and  at  once  reported 
her  plight  to  her  owners,  who  sent  tugs  of  the  Merritt 
Wrecking  Company  to  pull  her  off." 

"  The  Hilton  Castle  foundered  off  here,  did  she  not  ?  " 
"Yes.  I  saw  her  the  night  before,  but  being  only  a 
freight  boat  I  paid  no  attention  to  her.  She  went 
down  during  the  night.  I  saw  our  life-saving  crew 
go  out  next  morning  through  the  surf  and  bring  in  one 
of  her  boats  with  eight  men  in  it,  and  a  little  later  saw 
a  schooner  pick  up  the  other  boat.  These  facts  I  also 
reported." 

Sometimes  the  operator's  duties  are  of  a  more  grisly 
character,  as  when  he  jots  down  and  flashes  over  the 
wires  descriptions  of  dead  bodies  thrown  upon  the 


0 


246  In  Olde  New  York 

beach  by  the  sea.  The  other  Sunday  Capt.  John 
Wicks  of  the  Life-Saving  Station  came  in  and  reported 
finding  the  body  of  a  man  on  the  beach  about  a  mile 
east  of  the  station,  clad  in  only  a  shirt  and  trousers, 
which  had  been  in  the  water  some  eight  days.  "A 
clerk,  evidently,"  said  the  operator,  "for  he  had  in  his 
pockets  two  elastic  bands  and  an  eraser  such  as  are 
used  in  oflSces  —  a  well-dressed  man,  stout,  with  fea- 
tures unrecognizable.  We  cannot  tell  where  he  came 
from,  unless  from  a  passing  ship  —  not  from  New 
York,  certainly,  for  the  prevailing  winds  of  late  have 
been  from  eastward.  There  was  nothing  else  in  his 
pockets  except  part  of  a  copy  of  the  New  York  World 
of  July  20.  We  at  first  thought  the  body  might  be 
that  of  Hogan,  the  missing  aeronaut,  but  as  the  latter 
made  his  ascent  on  the  16th,  the  paper  of  the  20th 
proved  that  it  was  not  he." 


INDEX 


INDEX 


Adams,  Alderman 
John,  Bust  of 
John  Q.,  Bust  of 

Allen 

Ethan 

America,  Young  (clipper) 

Anthony 

Attree,  Wm.  H. 


PAGE  PAGE 

Bromley,  Capt.  Reuben         173 

Brower  72 

A.  D.  O.  (artist)  37 

33  John  I.  (artist)      36  et  seq. 

33     Buell,  Rev.  Samuel,  Sketch 

37  of  169 

29     BuUus  29 

122  Commodore  35 

13     Burr,  Col.  Aaron   51,  53,  66,  81 

29  82 

69  Theodosia  81 


B 


Bancker  29 

Ebert  A.  30 

Bamum,  P.  T.  53 

Battersby,  Col.  J.  C.  9,  11 

Bayard,  Nicholas  111 
Beecher,  Dr.  Lyman       152,  186 

Beekman  72 

Bennett,  Jas.  Gordon  69 

Bergh  29 

Bloodgood  29 

Bogardus  29 

Bonaparte,  Joseph  75 

Napoleon  75 

Booksellers,  Old  54 

Booraem,  29 

Brewster,  Capt.  Caleb  230 

Rev.  Nathaniel  232 

Bridgeport  229 
Briggs,  J.  I.  N.  (merchant)    10 


Cadmus  (ship)  200 

California  Gold  excitement  7 

Callowhill,  Family  of  75 

Calvin,  Portrait  of  75 

Carroll,  Chas.,  Bust  of  38 

Celestial  (clipper)  13 

Christian  shore  (Conn.)  233 

Church  29 

Circassian,  Wreck  of  183 

Clay,  Henry,  Bust  of  37 

Clinton,  De  Witt,  Bust  of  37 

Clipper  ships  6 

Cobbett,  Wm.  143 

Columbia,  Wreck  of  243 

Contest  (cUpper)  14 
Cooper,      Jas.      Fenimore, 

Tomb  of  88 

Cooperstown  (a  visit  to)  87 

Coxe  Family  74 


250 


Index 


Cuffee,  Rev.  Paul  186 

Curiosity  Shop,  A  New  York  72 


PAGE 

Gordon,  Lord  Adam  137 

Gouverneur  Family  29 

Gouverneur,  Sam'l  L.  32,  33 
Greeley,  Horace  (quoted)  55 
Greene,  Rev.  Zachariah  234 
Greenwood  &  Sons     (ship- 


De  Groot                                  72 

builders) 

13 

Portrait  of                          76 

Griswold 

29 

Deering,  Chas.  T.                  200 

Gross 

29 

Devoe,  Fred                             144 

Dock,  Old  City                          1 

H 

Dunlap  (artist)                          39 

Halleck,  Fitzgreene 

63 

Hamilton,  Alex.,  Bust  of 

42 

E 

Harding,  Ephraim,  Capt. 

127 

Henry,  Sir  (race  horse) 

50 

Eagle,  Commodore                  34 

Herald,  N.  Y.,  founded 

69 

Easthampton,  L.  I.,  Sketch 

Herkimer 

98 

of                        149  et  seq. 

Herkimer,  John  Jost 

126 

Easthampton  Churchyard      167 

Gen.  Nicholas  123,  124,127 

Eclipse  (race  horse)                  50 

Hicks,  WiUet 

142 

Erskine,  Sir  Wm.                    170 

HilUm  Castle,  Wreck  of 

245 

Eternal  (clipper)                       13 

Hoffman 

29 

Hollywood  Cemetery 

33 

Holt 

29 

F 

"Hook"  Ferry 

50 

Hot  Com  Venders 

47 

Fire  Island                              236 

Howell  Bros.  &  Hunting 

200 

Fish  Family                               29 

Howland 

29 

Floyd,  Col.  Richard               235 

Huggins,  Christopher  (clock- 

Flying  Cloud  (clipper)              15 

maker) 

73 

Forrest,  Edwin,  Bust  of  37, 43, 67 

Hunter,  Col.  Robert 

96 

FrankUn,  Benjamin           22,  23 
French,  H.  &  S.  (merchants)  200 

Hyler  Capt. 

81 

I 

Inman,  Henry 

G 

44 

Gallatin  29 

Gardiner,  David,  Sketch  of    174 
Lion,  Bible  of  192 

Grave  of  168,  190 

Gardiner's  Island,  Sketch  of  190 
Gile,  Rev.  John  234 


James,  Rev.  Thomas,  Sketch 

of  168 


Index 


251 


PAGE 

Jans,  Aneke  75 

Jan  (portrait)  75 

Jefferson,  Thos.,  Bust  of  37,  42 
Johnson  Hall  129  et  seq, 

Johnson,  John,  hanged      45,  46 
Sir  William,  Death  of     115 


PAGE 


M 


His  wife 

137 

House  of 

129 

Sketch  of 

131 

Jones,  John  Paul           21  et  seq. 

Thos.,  captured 

229 

Jumel  Mansion             77  et  seq* 

K 

Keegan,  Peter 

240 

Kevan 

29 

Kidd,  Capt. 

208 

Kidd,  Capt.,  Relics  of 

193 

Kimball,  E.W.&  Co.  (mer- 

chants) 

10 

King,  Alderman 

41 

Kip 

29 

Klyn,  De 

29 

Kneeland 

29 

Kockerthal,  Joshua 

93 

Tomb  and  epitaph 

108 

Kouwenhoven 

72 

L 

Lafayette,  Marquis  de 

21 

Bust  of 

37  to  41 

Landais,  Pierre  de     18, 

,  21,  23 

et  seq. 

Lee,  Arthur 

24 

Priest 

221 

Wesley 

144 

Leiter 

72 

Lenox 

29 

Littell,  Rev.  William 

233 

Livingston,  Robert 

101 

Low 

29 

Madison,  Jas.,  Bust  of  37 

Mallory,  Chas.  (ship-builder)  13 
Marble  Cemetery,  The  29 

Mariner,  Capt.  81 

Mastic,  Fight  at  228 

McCready,  N.   L.    &   Co. 

(merchants)  10 

McKay,  Donald  (ship-buil- 
der) 13 
Mershon,  Rev.  Stephen  L., 

Sermon  of  179 

Milton,  John,  Wreck  of  177  et  seq. 
Minthorn,  Phillip,  Farm  30 

Mitchell,  Prof.  Sam'l  L.  38 

Moll,  John  73 

Monroe,  Col.  Jas.  33 

Pres.,  James,  Burial  of    31 
Montauketts,  The  185 

Moor's  Indian  Charity  School  186 
Morris,  Capt.  Roger  79 

Morton  29 

Gen.  Jacob  31,  34 

Mulford,  John,  Justice  172 

&  Slate  200 

Sam'l,  Sketch  of  172 

Mumford  33 

Murphy,  Dr.  N.  S.  9 

Museum,  American  61 


N 

New  Rochelle  141 

New  York  City  (in  1827)  45 

Nichols,  Percy  30 

Nodder,  Andrew  A.  183 

North,  Prof.  Edward  124 

Northern  Light  (cUpper)  14 


O'Brian,  Lady  Susan  137 


252 


Index 


PAGE 

Ockershausen  29 

Occum,  Rev.  Sampson  186 

Ogden  29 

Old  Field  Bay  226 

Old  Man's  Harbor  228 

Oneida  Historical  Society  124 

Oppermier,  Nicholas  74 

Oregon,  Wreck  of  241 

Oriskany  Monument  123 

Battle  of  127 


Palatines,  Story  of        91  et  seq. 

Made      prisoners      by 
French  114 

Settle  in  Mohawk  Val- 
ley 113 
Pacific  (bark),  Outfit  of  201 
Paez,  Gen.  34 
Paff,  Michael  52 
Paine,  Thomas,  Last  home 

141  et  seq. 
Parkinson,  J.  W.  43 

Paulding,  Bust  of  39 

Payne,  John  Howard      152, 174 
Pell,  Alfred  52 

Penn,  Admiral  75 

Mrs.  Wm.  75 

Percy,  Lord  171 

Pharaoh's,  King,  Widow       184 
Phillip,  Rev.  George  133 

Phillipse,  Mary  78 

Pierson,  C.  H.  &  W.  (mer- 
chants) 10 
Pirates  4 
Poe,  Edgar  A.  60 
Port  Jefferson  225 
Porter,  Sir  Robert  52 
Prevoorst  72 
Privateersmen,  Whaleboat    225 


Q 


Quackenbos 


PAGE 


29 


Race  Horse  (clipper)  14 
Reid,  Lyman  52 
Ridabock  29 
Richards,  E.  &  Co.  (mer- 
chants) 10 
Richmond  Hill  81 
Robertson,  Archibald  (ar- 
tist) 36 
Robinson,  Beverly  78 
Roosevelt  29 
Russell,  Samuel  (cUpper)  13 


Sa^  Harbor,  Whalemen  of       197 
Sailor's       Snug       Harbor 

founded  173 

Salters  29 

Sandman,  The  48 

Schermerhom  72 

Schuyler,  Col.  Philip  136 

Scoharie,  Valley  of  109 

Scotia,  Wreck  of  245 

Setauket  232 

Setauket  Harbor  227 

Seventh  Regiment  33 

Shinnecock  Hills  218 

Shinnecock  Indians     216  et  seq. 
Simms,  Wm.  Gilmore  62 

Six  Nations,  Council  of  136 

Sleepy  Hollow  Cemetery,  a 

visit  to  86 

Smith,  Jas.  (merchant)  10 

Southampton,  L.  L,  Tales  of 

206  etseq. 
Sovereign  of  the  Seas  (clipper)  13 


Index 


253 


PAGE 

Staghound  (clipper)  13 

Stanwix,  Fort  127 

Stony  Brook  229 

St.  Leger,  Col.  126 

St.  Mark's  Church  45 

St.  Patrick's  Churchyard  17 

Storm  29 
Sunnyside  (home  of  Irving) 

visited  89 

Surf  Hotel  237 

Surprise  (clipper)  13 

Sutton,  E.  B.  (merchant)  10 


Tallmadge,  Col.  Benj.  228,  233 

Rev.  Benj.  233 

Tammany  Hall  63 

Tappan  29 

Temple,  Charlotte  46 

Thames  (ship)  200 

Ticonderoga,  Fort  at  118 

Tier  29 

Tilden,  Sam'l  J.  39 

Tillotson  29 
Topping,  Capt.  Thomas        211 

Tyler,  President  John  153, 174 

John  A.,  Sketch  of  174 


PAGE 

Van  Antwerp  29 

Van  Cortlandt,  Dr.  Augus- 
tus 
Vanderlyn,  John  (artist) 
Van  Hardenburgh 
Van  Time 
Van  Wart,  Bust  of 
Van  Westervelt 
Van  Wyck 


145 
51 

72 
30 
39 

72 
72,74 


W 


Wardle,  Thomas  (merchant)  10 
Warren,  Capt.  Peter  131 
Washington,  George  78 
Webb  30 
W.  H.  (ship-builder)  13 
Weber  72 
Webster,  Geo.  E.  (clipper)  14 
Weiser,  Capt.  Conrad  110 
Westervelt  Jacob  (ship-buil- 
der) 13 
Willett  30 
Wilsie,  Capt.  John  225 
William  Henry,  Fort  121 
Williams,  Bust  of  39 
Wimans  30 
Wise,  O.  Jennings  33 
Woodworth,  Samuel  42 
Wynkoop  SO 


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•  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

BERKELEY 

Return  to  desk  from  which  borrowed. 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


1948 


LIBRARY  use 

MAY  6    1954 

MAY  6    195/ 


0EC-2J958 


0EC13l969  9a 


OCT  -  5  1971    6 


REC'DLD 

r.i«e'n  LD    SEP  2.7 
SEP  10*64 -3^»^^" 

LD  21-100m-9,'47(A5702sl6)476 


.%?^ 


n-9^W5'3f 


d  225748 


